Fire through Winter's Heart
by Nyra Makani
Summary: Captain America has signed the Sokovia Accords and the world has settled to peace for now. But peace comes with a price. The Winter Soldier in a Psychiatric Ward was a high price to pay, but when the world called for peace, the soldiers answered.
1. Chapter 1

Day 0, 21:05

Dolores burned her lips on the coffee mug before she had even taken a sip.

"Boiling water is hot, no shit," she scolded herself and returned to the patient files she had been working on for what seemed like hours now. Her eyes, however, refused to focus and she glared at the coffee mug, willing it to cool down. It wasn't even that late yet, barely past nine, but she hadn't really slept that day and her boss requesting her to stay home today hadn't really helped her busy mind settle down to sleep. Dolores was prone to worrying, no matter what her common sense told her, so despite there being a folder in her living room that proved both her surgical and psychological expertise, she couldn't get the fear of being fired out of her mind.

It was probably nothing. Maybe too much staff. A refurnishing of her room. She had missed a holiday. It could be anything. And yet, no matter how deep she dug herself into her work, she couldn't seem to concentrate. Yet another thing that made her nervous. Normally she loved her job and could lose herself in it, but now her mind couldn't pick any meaning out of the symbols her hand had scribbled in the files sometime that week.

A knocking at her apartment door tore her out of her thoughts. Thankful for the distraction she jumped up and rushed to the door.

A groan escaped her lips as she looked at the man before her. Ok, something was wrong with her. She had started seeing things. There stood Captain America, jeans, jacket, blond hair, blue eyes and all. She had definitely read too much last night. Well, why did the memo of her temporary suspension come in the middle of the night?! She hadn't been able to go sleep after that. That and the new meds had her body apparently running havoc. The mirage in front of her looked slightly confused as she turned away.

"Are you Dr. Dolores Mahr?" The confusion in his voice was evident, obviously, since her mind couldn't project it into his face anymore as she had turned around.

"Sure am. Come in, reek havoc, have some coffee." She sighed and went back to her files. Her coffee was still steaming happily away. The door closed. Dolores veered around. The Captain was still there. Her face turned bright pink and she rushed back into the hall.

"You closed the door, oh my god, I am so sorry. Yeah, sure, I'm Doctor Mahr, please excuse me, I am terribly sorry. Please sit down, would you like some coffee, it's still hot and all?" At that, the Captain interrupted her ramblings with half a smile.

"No need to worry Dr. Mahr. I take it you aren't too well? If now does not suit you, I would be happy to come by at another day," he said as he retreated back to the door with a look at the forming purple shades beneath her eyes.

"Oh no, really, please stay. I just haven't slept last night, work's giving me some trouble. Plus some new meds for my migraines and I just thought my body hadn't taken them too well. And I wouldn't wanna be scaring Captain America out of my house, Nessy would kill me." She walked back to the kitchen table and stuffed away her files, her mind just barely keeping up, reminding her of the confidentiality thing, before offering the Captain a chair.

"Just Steve is fine, actually."

"Just Steve, sure, no thing," Dolores absentmindedly nodded and tried to fetch another cup without showing off her collection of ceramic fangirling. She happened to find a neutral looking white mug and maneuvered it out of the lot to fill it with coffee and set it in front of the Captain.

"Now, how can I help Steve Rodgers," she asked, trying not to sound like she had his biography in her shelf.

"Well, it's rather simple. Have you been up to date with the news?"

"Glued to the screen," Dolores confirmed before noting what exactly she had just said. But the Captain seemed not to notice it. A quick scan of his face told her that he was somewhere else in his mind, definitely outside of joking territory.

"Then I'm sure you know about the Sokovia Accords." She nodded her affirmative and he continued.

"Well, UN supervision requires my friend Bucky to be signed into a Psychiatric Ward. Stark organized a special facility to be built near to the one you're working at. And after some discussion with the Director of your hospital, he decided you should be Bucky's psychiatrist." Dolores' eyes widened in shock. She had been wondering what all the racket outside of the hospital for the last few months had been but had never bothered to check on it. When she didn't answer, the Captain continued.

"Well, they brought him there today, and when I wanted to speak to you the director said you were on leave so you could come tomorrow unbiased. But he gave me your address and ensured me it would be okay if I dropped by, though I'm not so sure that was correct." Dolores still didn't answer but the silence startled her out of her amazed trance.

"Oh no, it's no problem. Really. Uhmm, well... that's quite the bomb," she nervously chuckled. "I ... I'm not quite sure what so say. Though I must say I'm glad I'll have the chance to see if I can help. I had some time in surgery, that usually helps with patients from war, so it might be some good here too. Honestly, I can't really say anything before I've spoken to him. Though I really appreciate you coming over." The Captain nodded.

"Then please forgive my intrusion. I'm just really worried. All the doctors he's had so far have done him nothing but harm, and he's had enough of that." Following an impulse, Dolores took the Captains hand to draw his attention to her. The blue in his eyes was truly startling.

"You do not have to worry anymore then, Steve. I will not promise anything before I know what I am dealing with, but let me assure you, I will do my best and not hesitate to do anything that might help your friend." Steve nodded and smiled a smile that seemed to struggle upwards against the weight of his emotions.

"He is very important to me."

"I know, I can tell. And I am glad he has you. It will help. If all goes well, I might even be able to sneak you in outside of visiting hours." She smiled at him and he mimicked her. Then he pulled his hand from hers to reach into the pocket of his jacket.

"Ahem, Stark had this sent to the director and he said I should let you know." He quickly pushed a piece of paper over the table, clearly uncomfortable with its contents. Suspicious, Dolores picked it up and flew over the printed letters. When she reached the number printed on the middle of the page she clasped her hand over her mouth.

"The way I understood it, you will only be working with Bucky and Stark will pay the expenses."

"Oh, not just the expenses. With that raise, I could buy a house just in the first two months!" Steve smiled quietly at her bluntness.

"I take it that you do not mind then?" His worried tone had her looking up and smiling.

"Of course not. I'm always happy to help, especially if I can help Captain America. You have to do me a favor though." Steve agreed all too happily. He was now convinced this woman would really try giving Bucky a chance, not let him sit around in a cage.


	2. Chapter 2

Day 1, 8:15

Dolores made a mental note to wrap the book the Captain had signed in some paper when she got home as she pulled into the parking lot of the clinic. She found the spot designated for her empty and for once was relieved that she would be able to find her car at the end of the day. For as organized and on top of things Dolores was when it came to working, as chaotic was her mind as soon as she stepped outside of the hospital.

She had to walk back to her car twice before she could enter the new building, once because she had forgotten her backpack with the files, and the second time because she had left her ID in the car and the new building was apparently Fort Nox. At the sight of the tiny sheet of plastic with the picture of a confused and bad-hair-day Dolores on it, the swat guy in front of the door let her pass. Inside, Director Ebert was waiting for her eagerly.

"Good morning Dolores! How are you?" His voice was cheerful as if it could distract her from the white tiled floor, the lack of windows, and the fingerprint scanners at every door.

"Good, good, thanks," she lied. To say she didn't enjoy a chat before work would have been a lie, but today was different, today she was tired and had to put up with a change in her work routine simultaneously.

"Very well. Please excuse the tardiness of the memo yesterday, but we weren't sure how the Patient would take to his new surroundings, and I didn't want you to meet him under such extraordinary circumstances." Dolores noticed Ebert's refusal to call Barnes by his name and brushed over it as if she hadn't heard it.

"Mr. Rogers paid me a visit yesterday. I take it I am now assigned to Mr. Barnes only?" Ebert nodded.

"On intense request of Mr. Stark. I must say, I regret having to give up one of my best psychiatrists." Dolores ignored the compliment like she always did and let her gaze wander around the building. Unlike the clinic, the new compound hadn't been build with a friendly environment in mind. The floors were made of white tile, easy to clean, the walls were blank and equally white. The entrance she was standing in was a small room with a window in the left wall, behind which sat a guard, eying them. The entrance to the building was barred by a solid metal door, the workings of which Dolores couldn't even guess. But it made sense. The Winter Soldier was America's most infamous serial killer, assassin, and horror story in one. Only because of Captain America's intense request had he avoided the death penalty.

"Well then, I will set straight to work. Before I do though, please enlighten me on the bounds of the building. I don't want to trigger an alarm or something." Ebert smiled and turned to the door, motioning her to walk with him.

"Sure. This is the first door, it has to be opened by fingerprint, and only a handful of people have access." Ebert demonstrated the workings of the door by pressing his thumb on a small green pad next to the door. Heavy locks clicked open and the door swung inwards. Dolores wondered whether the fire department would approve. Most likely not. Well, actually, most likely yes. Rather have the Winter Soldier burn than escape once more.

Ebert continued walking and Dolores trailed behind. After the first few doors, she understood the thinking behind the building. Only a few get in, those few get out, absolute simplicity, and mostly everything was self-explanatory. She would have an office that had been furnished so that it subtly allowed the setup of a small bed, a kitchen to herself as the facility didn't hold enough people to justify a cafeteria, and, next to her office, her own little monitoring room with about twenty different camera angles that allowed her to monitor about every single part of the two rooms the Winter Soldier was held in. Currently, he was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. Dolores didn't pay too much attention to the cameras, she knew she wouldn't be using them often.

Ebert rambled on, obviously proud of the bunker he had built for their prime patient, listing numbers and building components Dolores didn't pay attention to. Only the phrase "absolute authority over the Patient within the bounds of the compound" stuck with her. Good.

"Okay, thanks, Director. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I would get to work now." Dolores coated her interruption with a sweet smile and Ebert nodded, not taking any offense. He never did, at least not with her.

"Very well. Be careful around the Patient, he is dangerous and beyond unstable." Dolores nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when Ebert had left. She allowed herself a moment of solitude before she dropped her stuff off at her office. Barnes was still sitting just like he had half an hour ago, and if it hadn't been for the timestamp, she would have thought the feed to be frozen. Another deep breath and she made her way to the Winter Soldier.

Bucky tensed as he saw movement in the window behind which he knew a team of soldiers was watching him. He didn't like it, but he hadn't expected anything else. This was his new cell now, and it was hell more comfortable that the glass box SHIELD had kept him in. Not that he cared about comfort. Everything in him screamed to get out, but he had seen the security measures of this building. No way even he was leaving. He couldn't anyway. Part of Steve's deal. And he didn't want to mess that up even more.

His attention was drawn back to the figures behind the window. He couldn't see too much as it was mirrored on his side, but his enhanced ear could hear the dampened voices. A woman was screaming. He couldn't understand what, but he amused himself with the image of a team of swats being yelled at by a woman.

"Jesus Christ," Dolores muttered as she let herself into the cell. She hadn't been too happy about the camera feed but had understood its necessity, but at the sight of the window that robbed Barnes of any privacy, she had lost it. Not that the swat team behind it could have done anything about it, but they were the closest victims in range, and she doubted being screamed at by a woman of her statue bothered them.

"Like, did they consult even anyone about this place, like even a student?!," she kept muttering as the door closed behind her. She let the pencil and notebook she had brought with her clutter onto the table.

"Hello, Mr. Barnes. Can I call you James? We'll be spending some time together, so would it be okay for me to call you that?" She looked up and met a blank stare tinged with mistrust. She waited for an answer, but when he didn't offer one, she simply continued as if he had. She was used to patients that wouldn't speak, and she knew, that building an interaction was important, no matter how one-sided it was.

"Okay, I'll just call you James, and you tell me if that's not okay with you. I'm Dolores Mahr, and it seems I've drawn the shortest straw," she chuckled as she sat herself down on the table she had just put her notebook on. She was nervous, the cold blue eyes staring at the wall, not noting her, unnerved her more than she would like to admit. And she rambled when she was nervous, which wasn't too bad with a patient who wouldn't speak.

"Meaning I will be working with you from now on." She looked around, rattling her mind how to start, and decided to just get going with the basics.

"I'll just get started on the basics then. Since you'll be staying here some time, I think it's important that we work together to make this work as well as possible. You tell me anything you're uncomfortable with, I'll see what I can do. I'll be with you once in the morning and once in the evening, for how long is your choice. If you don't need me, I'll just pop by, but I can stay as long as you need me to, I have no other obligations. What else...," she murmured as she took up her notebook to see what other information she could give.

"Ah, yes. Visiting hours are WHAT?!" Dolores jumped from her seat and raced to the door, noticed she had nothing to get and started pacing back to the table. "Hell, that's ridiculous! Who the FUCK decided that?!" She looked up and met James' slightly amused stare.

"Okay, seems like your visiting hours are Saturdays only, from 12 to 14. Jesus, two hours?! Like, what the fuck?" She tried to get her rambling under control and turned to James.

"Sorry, for the language, but apparently I missed the memo that I'd be working in a bloody PRISON instead of a HOSPITAL," she shouted at the nearest camera. It wasn't as satisfying as she had hoped, shouting at a black dot up in the corner of the room.

"You are aware those also transmit sound, right?"

"Hell yeah, I'm aware! Counting on it! Geez." She took a deep breath and tried to settle despite the fact that he had just spoken for the first time. Very good. That was at least one barrier down. But she didn't get her hopes up too high, he could still revert back to silence. She smoothed out her curls that had started rebelling against the tight bun she had forced them into and went back to the table.

"Okay. Sorry about that. I've just learned that I am really going to hate this place."

"You just don't matter," he commented, as quietly as before. Dolores noted the fatigue in his voice and despite his constant fixation at the wall, she could see it in his face. His body seemed exhausted, despite the tense pose he held on the bed.

"What do you mean?" She asked the question nonchalantly, brushing over the importance of his reaction. If he would answer a direct question from her, he was willing to interact, willing to work with her. Silence settled over the room and Dolores nodded.

"That's okay, you tell me whenever. So... what else... ah, yes right. There will be food brought to you thrice a day, feel free to make any requests on that matter. That panel over there will allow you to call me or the guards. It can also get you phonecalls with my clearance, so talk to me about that. There is a yard you can visit four times a week, plus in visiting hours, again, ask me, I have the clearance for that. If you want anything like books, paper, TV, I'm the person to talk to. I'm here from eight till seven and depending on my workload even longer. I'll make sure to tell you when I leave and when I'm here, I tend to be quite irregular about my work, at least when it comes to the stuff not regarding the patients." She flipped through the notes she had made on the first few pages, checking whether she had forgotten anything.

"Okay, that's the basics for now. Any questions for me?" She looked up to scan his face, but except for the exhaustion she had noted earlier, there was nothing. Either he was too tired to react or he was hiding from her. She guessed the latter and decided to read up on everything she had about James Buchanan Barnes, be as prepared as possible for tomorrow.

"Okay. Then, if you don't mind, I'll be in my office, getting the paperwork sorted. It's just down the hall, so if you need anything, I can be there in like five minutes." She observed his face, somehow feeling that it would tell her more than his voice would. There was a sliver of relief she caught before his face went back to the expressionless mask. He wanted to be alone which made complete sense. This was a completely new environment, and it sure as hell wasn't a nice one.

"I'll see you later then." She took up her notebook and pencil and pressed her thumb on the little green pad to get through the door.

The metal door the doctor had just passed through closed and Bucky was back to solitude. He shot another glance at the mirror but he could detect no movement behind the glass, nor was there another sound except for his heartbeat in the room. He tried to calm his racing mind and reach the meditative state he had so easily been able to archive between Hydra missions. But the doctor's words clashed around in his head and denied him any peace he could have gotten. He had to agree with her one thing; he already learned to hate this place.


	3. Chapter 3

Day 1, 18:24

The fourth cycle of her alarm woke Dolores. She jumped up, slightly confused as to where she was when the memories came flooding back. James. She had been working on his file and had eventually gone over to reading the book about the Howling Commandos and Barnes in particular, trying to learn as much as she could about him. She checked her phone. 18:25. Just in time for her second session with James. She wanted to try and talk to him this evening, try to decipher how many shards made up his mind.

Dolores got up and splashed some water onto her hand to rub her face awake, before she made her way to the vault, as she had decided to call it.

The books were all vague about the part she was most interested, his life after the fall from the train, so she would have to get it from him. But that, she knew, was easier said than done. James didn't trust her, obviously, so getting anything from him would be a long term process. She had just settled on already starting it tonight. It was as much as she could ask from her tired mind. The door slid open and revealed that James hadn't moved a millimeter from where she had last left him. He tensed up as soon as the door opened and opened the eyes he had kept closed before she had come in. The stare was blue and cold. Dolores tried to meet it with a smile, not sure whether she was any convincing. She noted the untouched tray of food on the table and went to sit down on the chair she had occupied earlier.

"Before we start, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. As far as first impressions go, that wasn't a very good one I fear. I just haven't slept in two days and my body's not keeping up with it too well. That, plus an all new office, and I was a bit beside myself. And I tend to talk a lot when that happens. Consider the last session as an introduction to the building by my weird twin." She played with the pen in her hands and straightened the paper on the clipboard.

"Now, I'll tell you a bit about how I'm planning to run this, and you interrupt me at any point if you have questions, complaints or suggestions." Not that she expected that he would, but she wanted to give him the choice to. From what she had been able to gather from the book, he wasn't very used to being given a choice, so she had decided to ease him into that slowly by giving him options in conversations or other small things, whether he would take up on them or not didn't matter for now.

"Like my weird twin stated before, I'll be with you twice a day. In that time we'll mostly talk, but we can also do other things, whatever you're up to. I'll try to mix it up, have it not be as boring, so let's see what I can come up with. Not to say the talking will be all fun and games. I will have to learn a bit about you so that I can see what would best help you, but we'll go at your pace." She took a deep breath and tried to wind up the courage for the next part of the little speech she had prepared. Geez, that stare was intimidating. She wasn't sure whether he was actually trying to chase her away, but she sure as hell wouldn't let it work.

"I know you don't trust me right now, and that's completely understandable. And you don't have to trust me, I won't make you. I'll just be here for you, trying to get through my agenda, however slow you want to go, however long you need. So if you don't want to tell me about you, that's absolutely okay, and if you still don't in a few months that's also okay." She breathed and tried to calm herself. If he could just blink maybe. Have his nose twitch. Nope, nothing.

"It will just be the two of us unless you want to see someone other than me, then I'll have that arranged." She flicked through her notes on her clipboard, but a look at the food had her abandon her plans. Maybe one day she'd stop wasting her time with them.

"You haven't eaten. Is there anything you don't like, are allergic to, stuff like that?" He shrugged his shoulders, just the tiniest of movements. She looked at the tray and tried to pick out what the food exactly was.

"I am not hungry." His voice was calm, any quieter and it would have been a whisper. She wondered if the cameras could pick up sounds that quiet.

"Yeah, no wonder. What is that even?," she puzzled as she pushed the mystery mass around on the tray.

"I mean, I'm not the greatest cook, Nessy can tell you stories, but I am not sure whether that is actually food." She heard the slightest rush of air as he laughed silently.

"If you want to take the risk, I can make your food. They built a small kitchen into my office, not enough people to stock a cafeteria. I can just make more and get you some. Like I said, I'm not a genius cook, but I can do hell better than this." She looked up, wanting to catch his answer, but got only another shrug.

"I'll just do that then. Because this is really dehumanizing. It may be a fancy cage, but we're not animals." She tried to shake off her disgust at the food and made herself concentrate back on the conversation.

"So, when was the last time you ate?" He just shrugged his shoulders again.

"Don't remember." He stared at the wall behind her as if his mind was too tired to process the complexions of a human face. Dolores tried to read the signs of his face, tried to tell by the slightest unnoticeable shifts what he was thinking.

"And sleep? You seem exhausted." A twitch of the shoulder, his right, flesh one.

"Don't know. Week or something." Dolores nodded and pretended to write something down in her paper to hide her shock. How was this man even still walking? No wonder he wasn't in chatting mood. She looked at her phone. 18:41. She couldn't already leave.

"Geez... Is there anything you need? I could get you medication to help with the sleeping." He just shook his head.

"Please think about it. It's essential that you sleep. Not only your body needs that time..."

"I'm fine," he interrupted her. His voice was not loud, just at a normal level, but even that slight rise made his whole posture threatening. Fear jumped at her, digging its claws into her gut, but she breathed and tried to keep her face. Fear would help neither of them now.

"Okay. I'm sorry I pushed that. I understand you don't want to speak to me right now. Instead, I could tell you some things about me. If I get to know you, it's only fair you get to know me too. Or I could leave you to yourself for the night if you don't want to talk anymore."

"Leave," he muttered, still staring at the wall. Without showing how much his sudden hostility had scared her, she got up and turned to leave. Her thumb hovered over the door, but she couldn't quite bring herself to go yet.

"I know I can only guess how much you must despise this place and me. I know you're trying to not give me anything, and that's fine. I just wanted to let you know that it's not working too well. I know why you think I don't matter. You think this is just another prison, another SHIELD glass box, and I'm just another imp doing my job." Dolores took another deep breath and pressed her thumb onto the green glass plate. The door slid open.

"I'm not though. I am ready to help you if you want that." With that, she stepped through the door and left the Winter Soldier to his thoughts.

Bucky looked after the doctor as she left and kept staring at the spot she had stood after the door had closed. The hurt in her words had surprised him, and he found he regretted being so harsh to her a little. As he considered her words, he began to see the time she had spent with him today in a different light. He had simply thought of her as a random doctor, another whitecoat using their doctorate as an excuse to stab around his mind, piece him apart and leave him broken. But maybe she wasn't. Immediately his instincts reared up, warning him of the danger of letting her in. As he tried to compromise with himself to at least see how tomorrow would go, the first jab of pain came. It was only a small stab in his temples, nothing he hadn't felt before, but soon there were glowing hot knives searing into his brain. He clasped his hands around his skull, trying to crush it to stop the burning, doing his best not to scream.

Dolores didn't bother to return to her office. She had her ID in her pocket and had had to leave her keys with the guard in the front. She smiled at him briefly, more reflex than courtesy and rushed out of the building to get to the cool evening air. She tried to shake off the disappointment and the hurt that clenched to her stomach as they quickly turned to anger. But before she could loose her redhead temper, she sighed and tried to reason with herself. It was the first day, that was always chaos. She had no idea how damaged he truly was, she didn't even try to make assumptions. He was probably just as confused and hurt as she was, only he had been taught to express that very differently. And with Stark paying her bills, she could take all the time in the world. All she could do was try her best and offer him any help she could get him, and then it would be up to him to take it. And that would involve being open on her part, exactly what she was not doing right now. Anger was exactly the wrong response. She tried a smile, and after somewhat convincing herself, she kept walking to her car.

There awaited her next surprise. The Captain leaned against his bike, parked next to her car on Ebert's spot. She tried to lose all the stress her face and body might be showing and greeted him with a smile.

"Steve, hello. Nice to see you again." He mimicked her smile, trying to keep his attention on her, but a quick glance at the compound confirmed her suspicions as to why he was here.

"You don't have to worry," she tried to assure him, keeping her gaze fixed on his. He smiled and looked down.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're just a very honest person. That's good." Unlike his friend. Her expression darkened for a moment at the thought and to her discontent, Steve caught that.

"What's wrong? You seem... upset." She smiled and twisted the keys in her fingers.

"Nothing wrong, really." She sighed and looked up. "I know you want me to tell you about J... Bucky, but I can't do that. Doctors confidentiality. He trusts me little enough as it is." Half a smile plucked as Steve's lips at the comment.

"That's him alright."

"I mean, it's completely okay, I have time. I just wish ..." She sighed and collected her thoughts, trying to decipher what she actually wanted to say. "Has he told you anything about what Hydra did to him, or how you experienced him? That would already help me a lot." Steve's gaze had moved back to the compound and he nodded, not looking at her, his brows furrowed.

"Sure, will do, but some other day. It seems you're still needed." Confused, Dolores turned and saw a swat running towards them.

"Dr. Mahr, you have to come. There is a problem. Now." He turned and left. Quickly Dolores turned to Steve.

"You can't come inside."

"Then I'll wait." Dolores turned to follow the swat with quick strides and a quicker heart. The doors opened much too slowly and she just dropped her keys on the floor when the guard shouted after her.

The picture of the vault when she reached it had changed drastically. About twenty swats were inside, pointing various guns at James, who had moved. He was leaning on the wall, his hands clasped tightly around his head, his chest heaving heavily. Even though his hair covered his face, Dolores could immediately tell he was in terrible pain.

"He lashed out at Frank, he was screaming before, so he came to check." Only now did Dolores notice the unconscious guard with blood on his face lying by the door. Her mind raced with panic, but her voice was surprisingly steady when she spoke.

"Get out. Now. Move Frank to the clinic, they'll help him there. Now MOVE!" She kept her voice to a whisper, angrily staring at the swat that had shouted in panic. He drew breath to argue, but her expression made clear that she would not be argued. Quickly she shooed the swats out of the room, then she took off her scarf and tiptoed back to James who had sunk to the floor, still clasping his head.

"James. It's me, Dolores. I'm going to help you ease the pain, but I will touch you for that, so don't be startled. It's going to be alright." Carefully she took him by the shoulders and pulled him gently to the ground. She pried his hands off his head, digging her fingers into the firm muscle to relax it, praying his metal arm would mimic his right one. Quickly she wrapped the scarf around his eyes, blocking the lights that would not go out until 20:00. Then she started circling her fingers at the back of his neck, working to relax the muscle. Despite not moving, his hands were clenched into tight fists, and the heaving of his chest showed in how much pain he was in.

"I'm going to talk to you quietly so you have something to concentrate on. I'm going to be watching you metal arm, your left one. If you want me to stop, just move your hand, you don't have to speak." She moved her fingers from his neck to his scalp and gently massaged the skin, concentrating on the area around the temple, careful not to have her fingers tangled up in his hair.

"You probably don't give a shit, but I don't know what else to talk about, so I'm going to tell you about my sister, Nessy. She's younger than me, five years, and she's the most adorable creature to ever walk this planet, I swear. She loves you, actually. Not you-you, obviously, she doesn't know you, or I'm sure you'd remember her. She's quiet, but hard to forget. Mom always used to say all the words she never uses, end up in my daily supply. I'm quite the motormouth. We don't really have that much in common actually. Anyways, she loves Captain America, she is a bit of a history freak, so she already loved the pair of you before Steve was thawed or the Winter Soldier appeared. She could tell you all the members of the Howling Commandos, with their hometown, date of birth, when they enlisted and everything noteworthy to ever happen in their lives, before and after the war. But geez, she loves Steve. She'll go rambling on and on about how adorable he is, and his ideals, and how strong he was, and all that stuff. And you too, I think if she'd actually met you she couldn't have gotten out a word, but she could talk about you for hours. I guess it's kind of weird, but you were somewhat of an idol to her. I swear she has every book on you ever written and knows it by heart."

Dolores kept talking until her voice was sore, and even beyond that. After what seemed like an eternity, James relaxed his hands and his breathing evened out. Her hands were sore and so was her throat, but she kept talking quietly and massaging his neck muscles and scalp until his eyes stopped fluttering and his breathing had evened out so that it was slow and steady. He was asleep. She quickly snatched her phone to check the time. It was 23:46. James had been bearing that pain for over four hours. Another glance at her phone revealed five missed calls from an unknown number. She kept one of her hands gently working on James' neck muscles which were slowly starting to loose the tension from the pain and called the number. The call was immediately answered.

"Hello, Doctor Mahr?"

"Steve?! I had my phone on silent, sorry I didn't answer." She still kept her voice down, not wanting to wake James, not now that he got some much-needed sleep.

"What's going on in there?! Is everything okay? Why are you whispering, are you fine? Is anyone hurt." She silently smiled at his concern.

"One of the swats, but he's going to be fine. J... Bucky had a migraine attack, he thrashed out at the swat that came to check. I managed to calm it down, he's sleeping now." For a while there was nothing and Dolores furrowed her brow.

"Steve, are you still there?"

"Ahm, yeah sure. Sorry. I was just a bit stunned. Bucky hasn't slept at all since Romania. He always said he doesn't need it, but I think it's the nightmares keeping him up. He's afraid of what he will see if he closes his eyes."

"Nightmares?"

"Yeah, he... I... I'm not sure whether I should be the one telling you this." Dolores nodded.

"I understand. I want to stay here, for now, make sure he's fine, especially when he needs the sleep so desperately. Also, the door is really loud, and I'm afraid I'd wake him up. The books say his hearing is enhanced, so I gotta keep it quiet. How about we postpone our chat. I'll ask Bucky whether he's fine with me talking to you, and I'll call you tomorrow."

"Sure. I... Just, thank you for doing this."

"It's my job, which I get especially well paid for. I think it's worth the effort. Now get some sleep, I'll call you." With that, she hung up the phone and returned her concentration to the sleeping man below her. A thought crossed her mind and she smiled.

Technically speaking, James hadn't given her the cue to stop, she was still allowed to touch him. She knew that that would be impossible outside of this situation, but for now, it would work. She gently shuffled around and started working on the muscles of his right arm. Like she had suspected, they were strained and clenched, so she gently set about relaxing them. She might not be able to keep the nightmares away, help his mind, but she could help his body.

Following her anatomical knowledge, she loosened every tense muscle along his arms and legs, sides, and shoulders. By the time she was done, she was afraid to even check her phone for the time and just leaned against the wall. She knew her voice would be fine by tomorrow, but her arms would probably hurt like hell. Worth it. She settled herself against the wall and readied herself for another night without sleep. She watched James breathe gently and smiled to herself.


	4. Chapter 4

Day 2, 6:47

Bucky didn't so much awake as he regained consciousness. Several times he drifted in and out of sleep, and when his eyes finally were able to fixate on the dead lights above him, it took several more minutes until his mind caught up with his body.

Immediately the training Hydra had installed kicked in. He didn't move while his mind scrambled to regain as much information as it could. But instead of numbness or dread, he felt surprised. For one, he was lying on the floor, and could not remember how he had gotten there. That was the next thing. He remembered the day before, the doctor, him chasing her off. Then it became somewhat fuzzy. All he could remember was pain. But then, how could he not remember? He doubted he had passed out, not from the pain at least.

Confused he sat up. His body responded smoothly, like a well-oiled machine. Confused he scanned his limbs. They felt better than they had yesterday, obeyed his will in an instance, without complaint. What had happened that his body would feel different?

Only now did he notice the figure that rested scrambled together at the wall he had slept next to. The doctor. Panic surged through him. He knew that pose. Lifeless.

With a swiftness inhuman he shifted so that he was facing her. Afraid to touch her lifeless form he scanned her, looking for the injuries he had inflicted, trying to decipher how he had killed her. He found none. He inspected her more closely and found her chest moving. She was alive! Relief flooded him, and he brushed his hair out of his face to hide it from the swats and the cameras.

Bucky wondered why she was in here. The first reaction that came to him was hostility, but for some reason, he felt like she was no threat anymore, at least not now. He couldn't remember how she had gotten here, which worried him, but she was no enemy.

Her head rested on her arms which held her knees together. He brushed away the copper curls that shielded her face from his view and looked at her. He had tried not to look at her before, trying to seem as inhuman as possible, shielding himself from whatever she and her words might do to him, but now that she was helpless, vulnerable, he dared look at her. The first thing he noticed were the dark circles under her eyes. She was clearly not used to lack of sleep like he was, the effects showing immediately. He noted her exhausted expression. He knew it well, it was one he had learned to hide. Hydra did not care for exhausted soldiers. But they had no need for them either. He wondered how long she had stayed awake.

Well, it was no use if she slept there. Apparently, the swats did not care if she was in here, or they would have had plenty of time to tranquilize him and remove her. He shifted fluently to a stand, still amazed at how easily the movements came to him. Not that it had been hard before, but there seemed to have been a resistance he was only aware of now that it was gone. But he would worry about that later, maybe the doctor could even help him. For now, he tried to pry her arms from her knees as gently as possible. As her posture came apart, he picked her up and placed her on the bed. He wondered whether to put the covers over her, but let it be. The cell was warm.

He turned to find a position that would allow for comfortable sitting without staring at her. He chose the table and crossed his legs on top of it, leaning against the wall. He fixed his gaze on the green panel of the metal door that locked him in, staring at the overlapping thumbprints from across the room.

Dolores awoke from being cold. She wasn't freezing or shivering, but just not comfortable enough to sleep. She wasn't really surprised when she found herself in James' bed, she hadn't really believed that she could make it through the night awake. She was however intrigued by the peaceful look on his face. He was facing the door, sitting crosslegged on the table where she had sat yesterday. His face was relaxed and this was probably the most relaxed she had ever seen him. She was glad he found a way to relax himself like that and she almost didn't want to alert him of her waking, just to not disturb him, but she had invaded his privacy for long enough. She let out a quiet yawn, not wanting to startle him with loud noises. His eyes flew open and his body tensed just the slightest bit. Dolores pushed herself to a sitting position and got up.

"I am very sorry for stealing your bed. If you want, we can drop our morning session, or move it a few hours. Though there are some things I want to talk about with you." James didn't react, not that she had expected him to, but he answered as she turned to leave.

"It's okay, you don't have to move it." Dolores turned and nodded, a smile on her lips before she pressed her thumb to the pad to open the door.

"I'll just head home quickly, change and get some stuff. I'll make breakfast when I'm back."

...

Dolores sighed at the familiarity of her apartment, but didn't allow herself to dwell on it. She'd have to get stuff together for breakfast and there were also some other things she wanted to bring. James might have tried to give her as little as possible, but she had learned at least one thing. He didn't like being watched. It made him uncomfortable, knowing eyes on him. Which made complete sense, considering the conditions Hydra must have kept him. The Winter Soldier had been a tool, reactions were not required or wanted. It made sense that he was more likely to respond when she wasn't staring at him. So she packed some things to busy herself with. Her watercolors, brushes and some watercolor paper, obviously, but also the travel catalog she had been brooding over, and the book Steve had signed, some wrapping paper and some other things. She also took a few extra pens, pencils, erasers and paper for good measure.

Dolores quickly showered and braided her wet hair into a bun, hoping it would tame it at least somewhat. She changed into a new jeans and shirt before throwing her jacket back on and grabbing the box she had filled with her shit to leave. Dropping by a supermarket to buy the stuff for breakfast, she made her way back to the compound. Her hand filled with groceries on the way to her car it was difficult to handle her phone, but she managed to call Ebert.

"Hello, Dolores. How nice to hear from you! How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm calling because I need a shelf in James' room. Can you arrange that?"

"Sure. Is an hour okay? We'll just take one from the cellar."

"Thanks a lot! Look, I'm really sorry, but I have to go. I have all hands full right now."

"No problem. I'll be expecting your first report on the patient by the end of the week, okay?"

"Okay, good. Bye!" She hung up and threw the groceries into the box on the back seat. She sat down on the drivers seat and started up the music on her phone before starting the car. Familiar songs filled the car as her thoughts drifted off, back to the compound. She had noticed the shift in atmosphere when she had left James this morning compared to last night. She knew not to hope for too much, as it might have been nothing more of a momentary sentiment on his part. It did not mean that he was about to start working with her, or that he would not be hostile when she returned, but it was definitely noteworthy. Maybe seeing her so vulnerable had caused him to lower his defenses. She was just another doctor, a profession he had no good experiences with, and the video of his "escape" from the SHIELD glass box made obvious why he would fear the power of words. If she looked at it that way, she was everything he had learned to fear combined. But sleeping, she was no more a threat than anyone else. She made a mental note to jot her thoughts down in his file after the session, and to avoid wearing white or black to avoid him associating her with doctors or Hydra as she pulled into the parking lot of the clinic.

She tried to somewhat repair her brittle relationship with the door guard with a smile as she handed over her keys and showed her ID, but he didn't react. Rather than dwell on it, her mind moved on quickly and she busied herself with making breakfast. Not trusting her cooking skills when unguided by a recipe, she stuck with the things she had survived off during her time studying. There wasn't much one could do wrong when frying bacon, eggs and pancakes. She made coffee as well and for the first time in her life was glad for the experience she had gathered working as a waitress to pay off her student loans while studying. With a sceptical look the head of the swats offered his thumb to open the door and Dolores smiled a thanks at him while balancing her box and the tablet with breakfast towards the table.

James had moved back to his original position on the bed from which he watched her with amused interest. Only when Dolores turned to him did she notice that his move might not have been quite voluntary. His hands rested on his crossed legs, completely encased in metal. When he followed her eyes, the amusement vanished from his look. She noted that he was however not mad about the cuffs they seemed to have put him in while installing the shelf that now stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"You know, it really does surprise me that they still see you as such a threat. It's really amazing how nobody gets the point of all of this." She paused a moment to see whether he would answer. When he did not, she kept talking, simply thinking out loud to fill the silence.

"Well, we should eat while it's still hot." She moved towards the bed and James' whole body tensed, moving from relaxed to defensive.

"They have that thumbpad, I guess I can open them. Would it be okay if I did that?" She searched his eyes to see whether he would understand the implications of the question. There were two meters between them, if she wanted to open the cuffs, she would have to get closer. Not answering, he held his hands out to her, ensuring the distance between them to stay as great as possible. Dolores took the hint and steadied his hands by holding the metal of the cuffs rather than his arms, even though that wasn't really necessary, his posture was solid ice. The pad scanned her and with an audible click, the cuffs opened.

Immediately Dolores increased the distance between them, sensing his unease. She poured herself some coffee and grabbed her plate and a fork to go inspect the shelf, making sure to fully turn her back on the table with his plate. Like many times before in her life, she wondered whether other people really couldn't see the signs of nonverbal communication, couldn't read them or simply chose to ignore them.

Despite his silence, James was an open book. Maybe the Winter Soldier was different, but James was easy to read. Sure, about as easy as reading encrypted Russian would have been, but she got more than enough from him. For example how much he resorted to the training that made him a soldier. He would move as little a possible around her, because not seeing how he moved allowed her no estimate of the extent of his ability. So she enabled him to move to get his food without her watching by turning her back and pretending to be interested in the shelf.

"Who put this here? Rhetorical question, I bade the director to put it there, I need a place to put all that shit," she pointed at the box with her fork. She had no idea where James was at the moment, as she was pretending to try to see whether the shelf was attached to the floor. It wasn't. James moved without a sound, another way to hide his skill from her. She had no idea how fast he could move, whether he was back on the bed or still grabbing his fork and knife. Not showing how impressed she was by his skill and subconscious training, she kept rambling.

"I mean, in the middle of the bloody room, really? Have any of these people ever decorated a house? Or like, ever been in one? The only furniture not bound to a wall is shit to sit on." While continuing her ramble, she started kicking the shelf at the bottom so that it moved over to the nearest wall, the one with the horrible mirror. Sure, only obstructed half of it, but that was the half directly opposed to the bed, so while not getting rid of the problem, it at least lessened it.

Dolores somehow managed to eat her pancakes without her knife, while continuing to curse around the poor quality of the shelf. When she finally turned back to James, he apparently hadn't moved, the barely touched plate on the table the only proof that he ever had. She pretended to take no notice and took the cup she had filled earlier.

"Coffee? It might be a bit strong, I don't know how strong you'd like it." Again he didn't respond, so she placed the cup back on the table, near the edge closest to him and filled the other cup. She turned back to the shelf, again having her back to him and shoved the box over to the shelf with her feet.

"I personally like mine stronger since I pretty much run on the stuff ever since my studying years." She crouched down and picked the first item from the box. The pencil case.

"Okay. I want to talk about yesterday. You don't need to answer if you don't want to. The cameras have no sound anymore, I made them shut that off, so the swats won't listen," she added. She placed the pencil case on the right side of the second highest level, mentally designating the middle level of the five as her own, all the other ones as theirs. She would have been a lot faster if she had put her cup down, but that was the whole point of the exercise. She picked up the scribbling pad next.

"Have you ever had that before?" She placed the pad next to the pencil case.

"No." Relief flooded her as he answered. His voice was quiet and steady, showing no emotion.

"Okay. Did it start slowly, or all of a sudden?"

"Slowly." Dolores wanted to sigh at the brevity of his answers, but she was glad he was talking at all. It would nevertheless be a very tiresome conversation.

"Are you in any pain now?" She picked up the small Bluetooth box she had brought along.

"No."

"Okay. In that case, I'd say we wait, for now, see if anything changes. Maybe it was just the stress getting to you." She didn't want to scare him with the prospects of even more doctors poking around at his skull. The box went on the third level, also right. The shelf was too big for the stuff she needed it for. Now, that all the questions about his physical wellbeing were over she got up and turned back to him. She had to suppress a surprised smile at seeing the coffee cup in his hands and locked her gaze onto his.

"Before we continue, I wanted to clear something up. I know that due to the events yesterday, I got closer to you that I know you are comfortable with. I just wanted to make sure you know that that was a one-time occurrence due to the circumstances." She bent down to pick up the two metal boxes with her watercolors at once and turned to put them on her shelf. Her movements stalled for a moment when James spoke.

"I don't care." Dolores tried to put her excitement at his sudden engagement aside and tried to concentrate on the placing of the cases and on her answer.

"You do. I mean, I have no doubt you could break my neck just like that, even with your right arm, but that's not what I meant. You're definitely not afraid, but it just as definitely makes you uncomfortable. No need to lie, it makes sense after all. The closer I am, the less time you have to react." She turned back to get the first book out of the box, catching the alarm in his look from the corners of her eyes.

"I mean, I won't attack you, I like both my job and my life too much for that, and I couldn't do any damage anyway, as you can see," she gestured at her short, not too fit figure.

"But you're a soldier, you've been at war almost your whole life, so of course you'd think like one. Especially with the extreme levels of stress and terror, Hydra put you under. Thinking like a soldier has kept you alive 'till now, so why change that." The book went onto the third shelf on the left side. She picked up the next two and took a sip of coffee before rising to place them on their spot. It wasn't strong enough.

"How can you know how I think? I haven't told you anything about me." Dolores pushed the books next to their kinsman and bent to get the last one. It was the one Steve had signed. It went to the top level. His voice was tinged with alarm.

"It's what I get paid for. And you're telling me a lot. No need to panic, there's nothing you can do about it. I tend to consider myself a little gifted with empathy, it makes it easier for me to read my patients, whether they want that or not. Of course, it's up to them how we work with what I learn."

"What do you know about me?" Dolores halted for a second, then she had the wrapping paper follow the last book. It had cupcakes on it. His voice was cold and hard with fear, despite his best efforts to hide it.

"James, you don't need to worry, okay? I'm not here to hurt you. I know you find it hard to believe that, but I actually am here to help you."

"How do you know what I believe?" His voice was hostile, and Dolores quickened her pace to get the rest of the things sorted in the shelf. The way this was going, he would want her to leave pretty soon.

"I don't know. I'm not a witch. But I'm good at guessing from the way you talk and move." Another quick glance showed her the confusion he tried to hide.

"For example, I can tell you still think like a soldier by the way you move, or rather, don't. Watching you move would give your enemy the chance to study you and estimate your abilities. By keeping still you eliminate that possibility. Also, you always sit in the same spot unless hindered, in the same position, but you never really relax. Therefore it's definitely not what you define a comfortable, but if you'd shift to sitting, say at the table, you'd show a preference, allowing an enemy further deductions." The box was empty and she turned to find him glaring holes into her skull.

"Why are you doing this?" Dolores sighed and took her cup with both hands. She didn't drink from it, not wanting to make him feel like his obvious threat had gone unnoticed, but she had to hold on to the cup to keep her hands from shaking as her heart raced at the sight of the soldier on the bed. For the first time, it really came to her mind how easily he might kill her and how dangerous he truly could be. She shook those thoughts out of her head.

"I want to help you. I want you to be able to sleep without nightmares and talk to people without inspecting them for weapons first. I want you to be able to live without having to be paranoid all the time, without hating yourself and with as little suffering as possible." She looked at him and forced herself to keep his icy gaze. Not shit they called him the Winter Soldier.

"I really want to help you. You think I'm one of them, those who built this cage as just another fancy prison for you to rot your life away, but I'm not. I want you to live. And if I can't get you out of here, I'll do my bloody best to make it bearable. But you're not giving me much to work with, and thanks to Mr. Stark, I have all the time in the world to think about every second of our meetings for the whole damn day. Like I said before: I know I got too close to you, and I'm sorry. But there's not much I can do about it."

The aggression had melted from his eyes and his posture and he looked at her thoughtfully. Dolores almost breathed a sigh of relief as the tension in the air somewhat lessened. She inspected him closer. He looked confused and it seemed like his mind was too busy to bother hiding it.

"Stark?"

"Yes, Tony Stark. He's a friend of sorts of Steve and he arranged that I only work with you, no other patients. Pays quite nicely." Suddenly the realization hit her. She understood the confusion. He had known Howard Stark. The name must have reminded him.

"You met his father before Hydra got you. He was part of the Team that made Steve a super soldier. He also made weapons for the Howling Commandos once they had been created." Dolores turned back to the shelf and got out the book Steve had signed.

"May I sit beside you? There are some pictures in the book." She observed his face, but he didn't react. But there was no hostility, no aggression anymore either, so she sat down on the other side of the bed and put the book between them, flipping thought pages upside down so he could see the pictures. She flipped through the foreword and the introduction until she came to the first picture. Steve at his second enlistment. She was always amazed at the change that had undergone his body, and today was no different. James too leaned forward and squinted his eyes at the frail Steve. Suddenly there was recognition in his eyes and his look wandered off while he seemed to remember something.

"Steve was sick a lot. I helped him when he came into trouble," he murmured. Dolores smiled and nodded.

"He was a bit too idealistic for his size and you saved him about every second day." She flipped through more pages until she came to the chapter describing Steve's life after Bucky had left. There was a picture of James all dressed up in his uniform, saluting at the camera.

"And look, there you are. You were drafted and shipped to England as a Sargent after your training." James stared at the picture and again she could tell he remembered something. He looked at the uniform with distrust, as if it was the picture of a wild beast that might leap at him from the pages. Quickly Dolores continued to the next part, which described Steve's experiment. There was the picture of Howard Stark she had been looking for. He had been a handsome man and Dolores recognized his son's traits in him.

"There, that's Howard Stark. He was a brilliant engineer if you can call it that. In that aspect, his son's just like him." James nodded.

"I remember." His voice was soft and rawer than usual with emotion. Dolores smiled at him and when he looked up at her, his eyes were friendly and tinged with gratitude.

"Very good. All the stuff on the shelf is going to stay in here, you're free to use it. I thought you'd need something to busy yourself with while I work on files and order boring stuff. I'd just ask you not to use the watercolors in the silver case. Nessy gave them to me, so they're somewhat special. But feel free to use the other stuff. Especially the books, they're all about you and Steve, so you can read up a bit on your lives." James nodded, his eyes fixed on the five book on the shelves. Trying to estimate his state of emotions by the far off look on his face she started playing with the bracelet on her left wrist.

"I think we will postpone talking about last night until tonight. Would you mind if I stayed here to work here? I could use some company." Immediately his eyes shot up to meet hers, trying to see what she meant with that. When he just saw her open questioning face, he turned his attention back to the book and shrugged his shoulders.

"Thanks. I hate being alone in a room, I can't concentrate." She got up and took out the laptop from her backpack which she had dropped beside the table. She opened James' file and started typing up her thoughts from earlier, as well as the observations from this morning. She could feel his mistrustful stare on her, but when, after twenty minutes she was still typing and hadn't tried any assassination attempts, he relaxed somewhat and turned his attention to the book. For a while, all that could be heard was the sound of typing and the occasional rustle of paper when James turned a page.

"What else can you guess about me?" His voice was just barely above a whisper and Dolores sensed the mental debate that had gone into asking her the question. She looked up from her work and tried to summarize what she had learned till now.

"That Hydra had you silent. They wanted your head empty, but it wasn't. You managed to trick them, keeping silent, not showing anything, but it would only ever work for so long. Then they punished you, badly. They would sometimes give you bad food, making you sick. They always kept you underground so you wouldn't know where the base is. You had a small room with only a bed, it was monitored. Doctors took care of the punishing and all the other things they did to you, and you were not the first they tried to make into the Winter Soldier, only the first to survive. Also, you blame yourself for what you did under their control."

James stared at her, his expression half amazement, half disbelief.

"How can you know all that?" Dolores smiled, a little embarrassed at the terrified awe in his voice.

"I pay attention and guess, I'm good at that."

"But how can you guess where I was kept?"

"I watched the video feed of your arrival, you were blindfolded so you wouldn't know the layout or location of the compound. But you haven't asked where you are since, even though I'm clearly not in the position to keep that information from you. To me, that means you're used to the situation. You're not panicking about your location, even though that's usually the first thing someone asks if they don't know. You've been kept somewhere without windows, with no way to tell where you are. That's easiest to achieve when underground." James nodded.

"But how can you know what my cell was like?"

"You sit on the bed all the time. You do that to not give your enemies any clue about your preferences, therefore the bed must have been the most obvious sitting opportunity where you were kept. So no chair, no table. And when they saw no reason to give you a table or chair, why would they bother with a big room. That, plus you don't pace. The more nervous you are, the stiller you become. So I assumed you had no room to pace. Again, small cell."

"And how can you tell I am the first Winter Soldier?" Genuine curiosity weaved through his voice and Dolores tried not to let show how thrilled she was, hearing it.

"It's a guess. You are afraid of doctors. You hide it well, but you tense up whenever I enter the room. You were more relaxed when the swats brought you in than you are now. You have to consciously know by now that I'm no threat, but that doesn't change your reaction. So your subconscious has to have been trained to fear doctors. Therefore: long-term trauma. And I doubt Hydra would have been as careless as they seem to have been with you with their first experiments. No, my guess is that you were just another trial, you just happened to work." James looked at her for what seemed like an eternity, his thoughts hidden behind his dark eyes.

"Are you sure you are not some kind of agent?" Dolores laughed and looked back to her laptop screen to flee is inspecting gaze. For the first time, it was she who felt like she was being robbed of all her secrets.

"I took some self-defense course when I started studying. And yeah, you could consider Nessy an extensive apprenticeship on handling and reading difficult people. No offense," she added with a quick glance at James to check his reaction. She had expected him to retreat, but the hint of a sad smile passed over his face like the swift smell of dying roses in a gust of wind.

Silence enveloped them after that, but it was a comfortable silence. At some point, James got up and walked to the shelf to exchange one book for another. Dolores sensed his unease at the uncharacteristic action and made sure to keep her eyes glued to her screen. She kept working like that, the silence in the room spurring her onwards. Despite the lack of interaction, she was content here. Usually, she couldn't stand being alone. It made her anxious and depressed, knowing the apartment she was in, or the office she was working in was empty, that she was all alone. Even James' silence was more comfortable than that.


	5. Chapter 5

Day 2, 10:09

Eventually, Dolores checked her phone. 10:09. She saved the document she had been working on in the secure archive that had been installed on her Laptop for James only and closed the device. At the sudden ceasing of the rapid fire of the keys, James looked up.

"I'll be outside for like, half an hour if that's okay with you. I have to make a call." James just nodded slightly and returned to the book he had in his lap. Dolores just left the laptop where it was and pressed her thumb on the pad on the door.

She quickly passed through the hall and by the guard, stepping outside into the morning summer sun that had just managed to climb the branches of the trees surrounding the compound. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to breathe the clean cool air. Immediately she felt a pang of guilt, that she was able to enjoy the summer morning and James was not. She distracted herself by pulling out her phone and calling the number Steve had called her from last night. As was her habit, she already started moving as the call was still ringing, starting to pace along the wall of the facility. Steve apparently wasn't finding his phone as she was on the other side of the compound, staring at the wall she knew James was behind when he picked up.

"Dr. Mahr, nice to hear from you." Dolores smiled and then frowned as her gaze still met the wall.

"Okay, this is getting awkward. I call you Steve, then I'm Dolores."

"Dolores, sure. How is he?"

"Better. The pain is gone, and it hasn't changed since, so I'm hoping it might just be a one-time thing due to stress. It's a completely new situation and he's not used to handling people like me."

"People like you?" Even over the phone, Dolores could hear the mistrust and worry rising in his voice.

"People that treat him like a human, not like a weapon or criminal. I'm trying to keep it slow, but I'm still giving him small choices left and right. I'm as honest as I can be and tell him everything about how I'm trying to help him and what I'm planning to do. He isn't used to that, and the attack yesterday might be his mind trying to cope with that."

"Okay. Yeah, let's hope that." His voice was warm again and Dolores imagined him smiling into the phone.

"Have you been informed of the visiting hours?"

"Visiting hours?"

"That's a no. Saturdays between 12 and 14. As soon as I have a solid footing with Bucky and know how he's coping with that timeslot, I'll try to advocate for more time and days. 'Cause that's just bloody ridiculous. He's locked up in a titanium box, he desperately needs distraction and contact with other people than me. I brought some books and pencils in today so he can at least busy himself with some stuff, but that cell is terrible. Maybe I'll have us repaint them. Or you two, whatever, anything but that white, it's horrible." A guard came around the corner to check on her but she waved him off, returning her attention to the wall.

"Sorry, I'm rambling again. You still there?"

"Sure. I'd love to help with the painting thing. Any other things that happened?" She could hear him smiling.

"Well, I think he's warming up to me. I mean, he came closer to strangling me than ever, but after that, it went pretty well." Despite the remark being sarcastic, Steve's voice was worried.

"Strangling you? What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, it's fine. He's just very uncomfortable around me. I tried to tell him that I don't mind that. I expect him to have at least some trust issues, considering his history, so I'm not planning him to trust me until at least next week. He immediately panicked because I could tell. He's been trying to give me as little as possible to go on, but I'm observant and very good at what I do, so he was panicking because I knew so much about him. But I made it clear that I wasn't planning on using that information against him and I think that relaxed him a little. I tried to make it clear how much of a disadvantage I have if he wanted to get information from me. I think that worked." Steve chuckled.

"Let me tell you that you're still impressively fast. Only the second day and him suspending his mistrust for you, a doctor, that's impressive."

"Yeah, we're moving faster than I thought. I expected to get the silent treatment for at least another day or two, but we actually had somewhat of a conversation today. But I think it will do him good to see you again."

"Same here though. I miss him."

"By the way, with you coming in tomorrow, I haven't asked him yet, you know, about whether I'm allowed to talk to you, I thought you might just do that yourself."

"Sure, I'll do that." Silence followed and Dolores stood to stare at the wall for some time lost in thought, empathizing with James, until an idea struck her.

"Steve, you are on Stark's good side, right?"

"I'm not Pepper, but yeah, he listens to me sometimes."

"Good. Can you get us connected? I have a suggestion for the compound, and I think with his influence they might work."

"Sure. I'm entering Stark Tower now, I can give him my phone in a few minutes."

"Perfect, thanks." Again, silence. It was again Dolores' mind that broke it.

"Steve, how much influence do you have with politicians and such?" Dolores could tell his confusion at the sudden change of topic when he answered.

"Not too much. I'm more of a people-person. More the soldiers than the officers."

"Okay, that would work too, maybe. I'm thinking, if I can manage to help James enough, we might be able to get him out of that Vault. Maybe with a tracker in his arm, or something. Even without politicians, if you can get the people to see him as Bucky instead of the Winter Soldier, the popular mood might swing around and we might get him out. Like Mandela in a way."

"Hell yeah! I'll see what I can do. But now I've got to hand you over, Tony wants me to leave his floor." Dolores heard some slight rustling and her heartbeat skyrocketed as Tony I'm-fucking-Iron-Man Stark's voice rang through her phone.

"This is Tony Stark, what do you want?" Ignoring his bored greeting, Dolores tried to keep her mouth under control.

"Hello Mr. Stark, this is Dr. Dolores Mahr, Barns' psychiatrist. I have been told you built the compound he's currently being held him, so I turn to you with a request for improvement."

"No need to be so formal honey, the way the Capsicle is looking at me, I'm afraid we'll be talking more often than I'd like. What's the problem?"

"The cell. I wanted to ask whether you could build a window to the outer wall." An annoyed sigh.

"Do you have any idea what kind of security risk that would be?" Dolores had prepared for that argument.

"You built mirrorglass into the cell, you had no problem with that. Just put some electricity on it so he can't touch it. You're smart, you'll think of something." After a stunned pause, Stark started laughing into the phone. The laugh grew quieter as he handed the phone back to Steve.

"I don't know what you asked, but it seems like he agreed."

"Yeah, seems like it." Happy with the future of the wall, she turned her back to it and started making her way towards the snack machine that she knew was somewhere on the parking lot. She wasn't hungry, but she craved something sweet right now so she sacrificed a few dollars to the chocolate gods withing the machine.

"Are you with him all the time?"

"No. I have two sessions, one at 8 and one at 18. They take however long take. I want him to have some time alone to think. He's used to not thinking when he's not alone, so I want to give him the opportunity."

"I'm very glad Bruce picked you out. I... there is no way to put into words how happy and thankful I am for the way you treat him." Dolores thought about how stupid she must look grinning at her phone.

"He's been a weapon long enough. It's time to care for his human mind."

"Yeah."

"Look, I'm gonna go now. I want to prepare Bucky for the building, from what I caught from Stark, he's going to have people here probably even today. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Sure, I'll be there at twelve."

Re-entering the compound, Dolores hung up and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She tore open the wrapping of the first chocolate bar as she entered the Vault. James looked up from the book and Dolores noticed with pleasant surprise that he had moved. Not much, but he had put up one leg to rest his metal arm on his knee and had stretched out the other leg. Surprise showed on his face at the sight of the chocolate bar.

"Sorry, I needed some sugar. Want the other one?" Without waiting for his response she tossed him the second bar and went back to the table. He caught the bar with a snap of his arm, the movement of a snake catching its prey, quick and threatening. A movement immediately belied by the open curiosity at the colorful plastic packaging of the bar.

"It's just chocolate, no extras. I hate the caramel stuff and I don't like peanuts, so it's boring plain chocolate." She packed away her laptop and turned to the shelf, getting out the case with the brushes and the rest of her painting supplies, as well as the box to put them on the table. When she turned back, James was now eyeing the uncovered bar of chocolate.

"You can eat it, it won't kill you. Not unless we've just uncovered the one thing I can do you can't." He bit the first square of the bar as if to prove her wrong. Dolores smiled.

"Good news, by the way. I just called Steve, he kind of laughed at me when I even asked whether he was coming. He'll be there at point twelve. I thought you might go to the yard together, it's more private than here." James nodded and Dolores didn't miss the smile that flashed across his face. He quickly dropped it to look up at her.

"Only Steve?" It wasn't so much a question as a request for confirmation. Dolores shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't really know actually. I only have contact with him, but sure, other people might be coming. They will have to go through my clearing though, and I won't let anyone in that you don't want to see," she quickly added when she saw the darkness of fear returning to his eyes.

"Then I want to see nobody else." He looked into her eyes as he spoke, fixing her gaze to his. Dolores smiled despite the chill that ran down her spine.

"Sure. Your call. Mind if I work some?" She held up the watercolor paper with a questioning look. James concentrated on breaking another square of his chocolate, but he answered.

"I don't mind." Dolores then started on setting herself up, quickly vanishing into the bathroom to fill up her two cups with water. She concentrated on taping down her paper to the table while she broke the silence as if she were talking about the weather.

"In other good news today, I think I managed to get you a window." James' head snapped up and she could feel his eyes boring themselves into the side of her skull. She quickly continued talking to calm her quickening heart.

"I got Steve to give me Stark on the phone, the guy who had this place here built," she waved at the room around them, pointing at the wall she was talking about.

"That wall there, there are trees on the outside. I hate rooms without windows and I hate having only artificial light. And if I can't get them to let you walk outside, I might at least enable you the view." She quickly glanced at his face, but her growing panic quickened her glance so that she caught nothing. Rather than risk being caught at another tried she laying out her brushes with extreme concentration.

"I know it's not a lot, I don't know why I'm so excited, it's rather demeaning to be so happy about getting so little as a window. I should be mad, hell, I am mad, that that's all I can do for you. And I'm going to try my very best to get you more than that, but that's all I can do, for now, I am very sorry for that."

"Don't be sorry," his murmur interrupted her ramble. Dolores froze at the softness of his voice and stopped rubbing the tape into the paper.

"I am very happy about a window. Then I can remember that I am free from Hydra." He caught her slightly confused gaze and his eyes skitted away.

"Hydra would never let me see trees or the sky. Only on missions." Dolores nodded and turned to the paper. She knew what she would paint.

"I am just so... I don't understand how someone could do something like that." She laughed quietly. "I have managed to understand what the Germans saw in Hitler and his parades, but I can't grasp how someone can hurt another human being, as cruelly and systematically as Hydra did. How they can bear to watch such pain, inflicted by them, and then, on top of it all, believe it's doing anyone any good!"

James watched to doctor in amazement as she started sorting little tubes of paint out of the metal box. He was confused. He had sunk deeper and deeper into himself as the anger in her voice became even more evident in her movements. Yet she clearly understood him. She could understand how he thought, even though she had just said that she could not. She said she understood the Nazis better than him. It left him confused, even more so at how bad this realization felt.

Dolores noticed the confusion in his expression and quickly caught up to the thoughts that clouded his eyes.

"You're nothing like them, James." He looked up and for the first time she saw beyond his icy outer shell and caught a glimpse at the confusion beyond.

"You're confused. You don't understand how can I understand you so well, so creepily well, even though I just said that I couldn't understand people who inflict and cherish extreme violence. That's because you are not one of those people."

"I have killed hundreds of people." Dolores put down her brush and turned to him.

"Yes, and you hate yourself for it. You are not a murderer, you don't relish cruelty. You didn't enlist as soon as the war started, you weren't eager to leave, you didn't pick Steve as a friend because it would give you an excuse to pick fights. You were drafted. You were terrified to leave your home. You and Steve were friends because he needed protection to stay the idealistic golden boy he was, and you saw that and found it worthy of protection. You are a good man taken advantage of." James shook his head and dropped it into his hands.

"That man is dead. Hydra killed him with my memories."

"To brainwash you. To control your movements, control your emotions." James' head snapped up and the fury in his eyes scared her shitless.

"You have no fucking idea what they did! I pulled the trigger, every damn fucking time, I remember, it was ME!" Dolores had leaped out of her chair when he started shouting. She retreated into a corner, pressing her back to the wall. James returned to his original position and stared at the floor, hurt and anger in his look.

"Go away." His voice had soothed, it was silent, but there was no calm in it now. Just the treat of a beast, muscles tensed, still before the lethal jump. Dolores closed her eyes and concentrated on doing what she had sworn herself never to do again.


	6. Chapter 6

Day 2, 11:12

Dolores closed her eyes and breathed. She pictured the Winter Soldier in all his illimitable force and danger. It wasn't hard with the picture of James' ice cold stare still burnt into her brain.

"I am cold. Every part of me is cold. Cryofreeze does that, it leaves my muscles cold for days, no matter what I do. But at least I have something to do. My head is light and quiet, now that I can concentrate. I move quickly, I stick to the dark. Despite my boots and my gear, I am soundless. I know I won't get in through the first door, they told me. That, the address and the picture of a soon to be dead man. I climb easily onto the roof of the building two blocks down the house where the dead man lives. I don't worry about the glass shards piercing themselves into my belly through my armor. Even if any get through, pain does not matter. I set up my rifle, slowly, some part of me wanting to prolong the process as long as I possibly can. It's nice, calming, it clears my empty mind. It feels familiar. I know why, I've done this more times than I can count due to the wipes, but that thought feels wrong. The thoughts bounce around in my head and I concentrate on the night around me. I check on the humidity, the wind, the light, the noise. I take in the night around me and turn it into numbers. Two up, one left to counter the wind and the distance. This is also familiar. The same familiarity as setting up the weapon. I ignore it. It's not part of the mission, so not my problem. I look through the scope, taking in my target. My head is empty, but not at peace. The only thought that can fill my mind is the mission. But there is something tugging at my brainstem, something isn't right. But my body continues without me. My mind is taken apart by that strange feeling, while my eyes find the dead man through the window of his living room. My body continues the routine without me, I feel the pressure of my finger on the trigger at the socket of my arm. My finger moves. The dead man falls. And my head is silently torn apart. What I did was wrong, but why, I don't know, it's all I know, my Mission, I only have my Mission, but why is it wrong, I know I made no mistake, I don't make mistakes, not on Missions like these, I made no mistake, and that is whats so wrong, I made no Mistake, that's what I did wrong, I was efficient, I should not have been, but I have to, I can not make Mistakes."

Dolores could feel her voice getting louder and more frantic, her lungs struggling for breath as she was torn apart by the Winter Soldiers mind. But she could not stop. The feelings of terror and confusion would not leave her and she could feel the glass piercing itself into her body. Until one unfitting sensation tore her out of hit. The feeling of cold metal smoothly running over her shoulder, grabbing it gently. Her eyes flew over and her legs gave away under her. James could not stop her fall, but he could soften it, as her head dropped against the wall. She stared at the reflection of the lights on his metal arm as she tried to regain her sense of personality and self, picking apart the Winter Soldiers emotions from her own.

When she was able to think clearly again, she looked up at the worry in his eyes. She could feel her heart melting into a smile, but she kept her face serious as she held his gaze.

"Don't tell me I don't know." The worry shifted to a mixture of mistrust and fear.

"I won't hurt you, other people have done so enough. I know. But I can only guess so much. I want to help you, James, I want to stop feeling this too. But I can't guess everything. So, I'll need you to help me." James looked at her for several seconds that seemed like eternity, then he stood and helped out his right hand to pull her up. Dolores smiled and thankfully let him pull her up. Her legs were still weak and she dropped thankfully onto the bed he had led her to. She tried to occupy as little as possible space as he settled down on the other side of the bed. A part of her wanted to get up, excuse herself, and be all professional again, but apart from being unable to, she felt like right now, this was fine. Her hair had opened and she could feel it rising in revolution against her attempts to tame it, but she didn't care.

"Are you in pain?" His voice was worried and Dolores couldn't help but smile.

"No, I'm fine. I just have to get my thoughts sorted. Thinking like the Winter Soldier is terrifying."

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Don't be. I'm fine. But you need to help me a bit for you to be fine, okay?"

"I can try." Dolores twisted her chest and looked up at him, upside down.

"That's all I'm going to ask you." He smiled at her, just a tiny, half-smile that tugged at his mouth. "I'll be out of your bed in a second. As soon as my legs will carry me."

"How did you do that?" Dolores looked up at him again with a questioning look. "How can you think like me?" She tried reading the expression on his face, but what was difficult when the right way around, was impossible to do while upside down, so she let her gaze wander to the ceiling and tried to conjure up the feeling she got when entering someone's head.

"I don't know. I've been able to do it ever since I remember. It scared Nessy shitless when she figured out what was weird about me. People just have to talk long enough, enough so that I can figure out some part of their story, and then it spins itself. It just needs one trigger and I can fully be that aspect of someone. Of course, it's always just one glimpse, one facet. And humans have a milliard of facets. No emotion is ever truly the same, but I can get very close." A shudder took hold of her as she remembered just exactly how close she could get.

"Are you okay?" Dolores pushed herself to a sitting position and put up a smile to calm his worry.

"Don't worry, I'm okay. I just... I promised Nessy to never fully dive into another person like that again. I can't help getting glimpses anyway, there's nothing to be done about that, but I haven't done full dives since she made me promise not to." James looked at his hands.

"I'm sorry," he murmured and Dolores could tell that he really was.

"You don't have to be. James, it's my job to try to understand you. You don't have to be sorry that I'm a little irresponsible with the means I'm using."

"But I forced you to. I'm sorry I'm making it so difficult for you. I... it's just hard to..." He looked a little lost trying to find the right words and Dolores suppressed the impulse to take his hand. "I guess it's hard for me to believe someone would be so nice to me without any hind thought."

"Yeah, and that's okay. I didn't expect you to settle for another week. So you're doing really well actually." Dolores got up and shifted back over to the table. The bed was still James' space and she didn't want to intrude unnecessarily. She took up a pencil and quickly sketched out the outlines of the picture she had in mind, and then started on the background gradient. Working with the familiar brushes and colors had something soothing and she managed to shake off the last bit of cold the Winter Soldier had breathed into her bones. Silence settled over them and Dolores tried to formulate her next question to get them back on the course of treatment.

"So. Going back to the script. How did you sleep last night?" After a bit of stunned silence, James answered.

"I don't know. Good, I guess."

"Steve told me you hadn't slept since the day he picked you up in Romania." She waited for the first layer of color to dry and scanned the picture, planning out how to go at it.

"Yeah. I can go without sleep pretty well."

"Is it easy for you to go to sleep?" She looked up. James was staring at the wall that would soon be glass.

"No. Not really. I don't really know. Hydra had me in cryofreeze when they didn't need me, and I haven't really slept a lot since." Dolores nodded and returned to the picture as the paint was dry. She tried to figure out how to continue the conversation, but her mind kept drifting off. She noticed his discomfort at the topic and her mind raced away to other things to discuss. She sighed inwardly at herself and decided to go with it.

"How many languages do you speak? Sorry for the change in topic, but you seem to be uncomfortable talking about that already, and I can't concentrate right now." Half a smile tweaked James' lips.

"English, Romanian, Russian, German, Spanish and French." Dolores let out an impressed whistle as she tried to control the colors on the paper.

"Wow. I speak fluent German and a bit of Spanish, not that impressive."

"Warum denn deutsch?" Dolores glanced up and caught him watching her.

"Meine Oma war Schriftstellerin in Deutschland als die Nazis an die Macht kamen. Ma konnte daher natürlich auch deutsch und hat uns bilingual erzogen. Mein deutsch ist besser als Nessys, ich bin mehr der Languagefreak." She grinned at him. "Nessy loves history and all that science shit. I'm more for languages, literature, and anatomy."

"And painting." Dolores looked at the painting and smiled at the warm memory of Nessy telling her all about the second world war while watching her paint.

"Yeah. Just watercolor though. I haven't gotten a grip on the other stuff. The first time I tried watercolor Nessy was ten, and she was having a Captain America fangirling spree. She knew everything about him that had ever been published and so much stuff that wasn't. It was for her birthday, and I made her a portrait of the Captain. It was really bad, but she loved it." Dolores smiled at the memory of her sister's smile, so wide it seemed to shatter her face. Quickly she moved on.

"What do you think of German?" Dolores could feel James' confused eyes on her. He was trying to read her, trying to see why she changed the topic so quickly, but he only found concentration. He was about to answer when the opening of the door interrupted his thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

Day 2, 11:57

The head of the swats stood in the door. He stared at James until he was satisfied that he wouldn't jump and run, then he turned to Dolores.

"The Captain's outside. Got some people with him and a truck." Dolores smiled, ignoring the scruffy attitude. She knew he was pissed at one of his men being injured, but that was his own fault.

"That will be the men for the window. Thanks, Sergeant Gret. I can take them from here." Gret nodded and the door closed. Dolores turned to James who had tensed and was looking at her, half alert, half afraid. "I didn't know they would be here so quickly. I'll go out and see how they want to do this, then I'll be back for you. Is that okay with you?" James half nodded, half shrugged his shoulder. Dolores smiled at him reassuringly, then she pressed her thumb to the door and made her way outside of the compound.

"Steve!," Dolores gasped as she saw who Gret had meant with Captain. Steve grinned, apparently quite proud of his surprise.

"Hey. Tony didn't want anyone to mess up his precious steel cube and I thought I might help you handle Bucky while they're working." He gestured at the men behind him who had started unloading materials from their truck. "I was told you could sneak me in outside of visiting hours," he murmured as he leaned into her. Dolores laughed, then she furrowed her brows as she looked at the materials. Steve watched her shift of expressions confused as a huge grin broke out over her face.

"I have an idea. Get your shield and wait for me over there." She pointed at the trees. She knew the park inside out as she had spent many lonely lunchtimes in them. "Tell them they can start working as soon as I'm outside, the Sergeant will lend you his clearance," she added, gesturing at the men behind Steve. Still confused as to what she was planning, Steve just turned and went to inform the workers. Dolores spun around. The sergeant was waiting for her in the entrance hall.

"Sergeant Grat, I need you to lend the workers your clearance please, so that they can get in. I'll be taking care of Barnes. As soon as we're outside, you can let them in." The sergeant just nodded, not too happy she was giving him instructions, but complying nonetheless. Dolores headed back to the Vault and thumbed her was inside, where James was anxiously awaiting her.

"Okay. So the guys with the window are here. Buuuut, I have a tiny surprise for you. See it as a late welcoming gesture." Dolores tried to get the huge grin off her face as not to scare or confuse him, but it was impossible. "I won't tell you what, that would be boring. Do you trust me with that? Pretty big question to ask on your second day, I know, but I swear you're going to love it, and it's nothing you couldn't get out of. If you're in any way uncomfortable, you can ask me and I'll get you out immediately. Pleeease?!" He looked at her skeptically, trying to make sense of her words.

"Sorry, I'm rambling. I have to take you out of the cell. And if you trust me a little and swear on whatever is holy to you to behave and stick around, I get to show you something really really nice. Can you do that?" Still skeptical, James nodded slowly.

"I swear on all the memories I have left that I will behave. Not like I have anywhere else to go." His half smirk was sad but Dolores couldn't help herself but grin.

"Perfect. I promise you won't regret it. Though I will have to get you back into these," she held out the huge metal cuffs she had taken from him earlier. With the grace of a snake uncoiling for a lethal strike, James got up from the bed and held out his hands. His body was tense, but his movements smooth and betraying nothing of his anxiety. Dolores struggled a bit with the heavy cuffs, but soon she had his hands restrained and motioned him to follow her.

James kept his head down as they passed the Grat and the guard at the door. Dolores kept her hand on the cuffs symbolically and passed the workers. She nodded to them and quickly moved James out of the way as they started piling into the building. She could feel his ever growing anxiety as he followed her to the treeline. It was Steve who realized her plan first and his face lit up with a grin so huge she thought it might tear it apart. James, however, did not look up, not wanting to draw any attention as not to give rise to more chaos and confusion.

"Okay, you're going to be the babysitter until they are done." Steve grinned, even more. Dolores wondered how that was even anatomically possible.

"Sweet. We're going anywhere?" At the sound of Steve's voice, James' head shot up. He stared at his friend in disbelief, the whipped around to Dolores. She also had to grin.

"Sorry, I had to use the opportunity. I have to take some security with me, and I promised Steve I'd sneak him in outside of visiting hours sometime. I just hadn't planned that to happen so soon."

"But..." Dolores noted how adorably confused and happy James was at the same time.

"No buts just yet. We need to look like this is a plan. Steve, take Bucky and follow me." Steve grabbed James by the arm and followed her into the small forest that surrounded the facility. They walked for about five Minutes until they hit the small clearing Dolores had aimed at. She loved this place and it had offered her a lot of comfort with its soft grass and the dense treeline, leaving out the sky. The men behind her gaped for a few seconds while she settled down on the grass against the tree that was lying straight through the middle of the clearing.

"Dolores, what are we doing here?" Steve asked. James stood slightly behind him, not protected, but the backup. She smiled at the subconscious arrangement. Steve was the charmer, Bucky the threat to listen to him.

"James cannot stay in his cell. That is considered the only safe room to keep him alone, otherwise, we could work in my office. So if I need extra guards while they're working on his cell anyway, I might as well have you join us. I thought you'd both appreciate."

"No. I mean, why are we here?" He gestured at the clearing. James tried to underline his skeptical tone with a mistrusting gaze, but his eyes kept wandering off, to the grass, the trees, the sky. Dolores smiled and looked at James.

"A window is nothing compared to the real thing. It's a beautiful day. We're going to be inside enough. And here there are no cameras, no mikes, no swats, no walls. I figured I'd get you as much of that as I can. You can't rebuild a mind in a cell." Steve still wasn't convinced, it seemed to be too good to be true.

"No hooks? No buts? What's the subclause?" Dolores laughed and looked at them both.

"Well, I'll be here, listening to every word you say, learning from every twitch of your face. And it's only for a few hours until the window is installed. Then Grat won't have to stay in the compound anymore and will come looking for us. So enjoy it while you can. Oh, and you'll both have to back me up once he's found us, else I'll lose my job." Dolores just closed her eyes and let her head fall onto the trunk, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her face and the smell of the grass. She could hear Steve and James slowly joining her. James settled down beside her with a good distance between them, while Steve stretched out fully onto the grass.

"Does she just do that with me, or is she always that nice?" Steve asked James. James laughed a quiet short little laugh but didn't answer. For a while, they were silent and just enjoying the sun.

"So, how is it?" Steve tried to ask the question nonchalantly, but America's golden boy wasn't a very good liar and Dolores could hear the burning curiosity. She could sense James looking at her so she steadied her breathing, pretending to be asleep. She knew she couldn't leave them alone, she had some little sense of the security protocol left, but she wanted to give them at least the resemblance of privacy. As soon as James seemed convinced that she was asleep, he answered.

"Not too bad, actually. The cell is nicer, I can move around and stuff. There's cameras everywhere and a huge mirrorglass with the swats behind it, but otherwise, it's nice. The bed is too soft though." Steve laughed and Dolores gave her everything to not smile.

"And how's the doctor? Bruce picked her out, he said she'd be the best for you."

"She's nice. She isn't so..." Bucky tried to find the right word to describe the woman next to him but just ended up chuckling as the image of her bursting into his cell the first day flashed across his mind. "On the first day she was there, she was shouting at the swats. I could hear it a bit through the mirrorglass. She came into the cell, furious. She was cursing and still swearing at the swats about the mirrorglass. She's got quite the temper as far as I can tell, but she's nice. Isn't so stuck up. I mean, every time she tried to start a conversation that an actual doctor might have, she gets off topic."

"Okay... But do you have the feeling it's helping or anything?"

"I guess. It's creepy how she can read people. I think she understands how I think better than I do. But... it's weird, but I don't actually mind that. I'm actually somehow glad that she can understand. I didn't think she would or could, but I somehow feel like she might actually have an idea about what to do."

"Like last night?"

"You know about that?"

"I was waiting outside, wanting to ask her how you are when the guard called her back in. She called me eventually, telling me you'd fallen asleep. How the hell did she even do that? With meds or did she actually knock you out cold?" Bucky laughed and tried to think back to last night.

"I don't really know. I just remember that, one moment, I'm just really glad she's gone and I'm alone again, next thing I know, my head feels like they're wiping it again, but ten times at once. I think I got up and someone tried to push me back to the bed."

"Yeah, the doc told me one of the swats got injured." Alarmed, Bucky opened his eyes.

"Injured?!" Steve looked at him, somewhat worried.

"Yeah. She said something about one of the swats checking on you. You thrashed out. She said he'd be fine though." Not convinced of that, Bucky made a mental note to bring that up with the doctor once they were alone again.

"So what then?"

"I can't really remember. But I remember her doing something to my head that kind of lessened the pain. And she talked a lot, but really softly. It was nice. Something other than the pain to concentrate on. She told me about her sister, she really likes that girl. And next thing I know, I wake up on the floor, pain all gone, the doctor asleep sitting beside me." Steve chuckled and shot a glance at the sleeping doctor beside Bucky.

"She didn't lie when she said she'd stay a bit, that's sure." Bucky grinned. No, the doctor hadn't been lying. In fact, from all he could tell, she had told him the truth about everything so far. She hadn't lied or tried to keep information from him once. It was new, uncomfortably unfamiliar, but nice nonetheless. The Soldier in his mind told him it was all a trick. A new way Hydra found to lull him into letting down his guard, to get to him. But that was just one quiet voice against the whole rest of him starting to like the woman with the curly red hair.

"So, what is she having you do?" Bucky turned his attention back to Steve who was trying to hide his worry behind curiosity. The man on the grass was so unfamiliar, but Bucky somehow knew that his eyes were lying. He knew the man and he could trust him, if nobody else, then him.

"Nothing really. It's been all talk up to now. She said she'd try to do some other stuff to not have it be boring, but 'till now, it's only been talk."

"Like what?" Bucky shrugged.

"Just random things. First time she came in, she was just telling me how often she'd come and what I was allowed to do, stuff like that. And she was screaming at the swats a lot," he chuckled. "Then she was all doctor, asking how I sleep and eat." He frowned at the memory. "I wasn't very nice to her. I didn't want just some other whitecoat picking me apart again. But she asked whether I wanted her to leave, and when I said yes, she actually left. 'Till the guards got her back because of the whole headache thing. In the morning she left to get some stuff from home. So when she came back she had made, like... breakfast and had a box of stuff with her. They put a shelf in the cell while she was gone. When she came back she was saying sorry for how close she had gotten last night. That freaked me out, really, how she was able to tell how much I didn't like her being close. It was like she was reading my mind. But she explained to me how she did that, and it was still creepy."

"Creepy?" Steve shot him a questioning glance and Bucky tried to put into words the panic that had taken hold of him when he learned how she could read his thinking.

"She knew the size of my cell at Hydra and how it only had a bed from how I sat. I mean, I tried to give her as little as possible to go on, her being a doctor after all, but it was like she was directly looking into my head."

Steve relaxed back onto the grass and closed his eyes against the sun. Bucky imitated his example and soaked in the feeling of the sun against his skin. It had been so long since he had been able to enjoy the upcoming summer's warmth like that. He breathed in the air and tried to memorize the thousand different scents in it. He was incredibly thankful the doctor had taken him here. He probably wouldn't tell her, he still didn't trust her nearly enough to admit to her having such a control over him. He tried to catch every bird song, every ray of sun, every little breeze. It would have to be enough for a long time. Not that he'd deserve this.

That was another odd thing about the doctor. Despite her eerily good empathic skill, she didn't seem to grasp the monster he was. She didn't seem to see the blood on his hands, so much he drowned in it in his dreams. Somehow, she could see past the pile of corpses that buried him alive. Despite all he had done, all the pain he had caused, all the misery he had been the root of, she wanted to help him. For some reason, she wanted to lessen the punishment for his crimes.

"She's weird though." Again Steve glanced up at him, but Bucky was just looking at the trees ahead of him, lost in thoughts while trying to remember the exact texture of the bark.

"What do you mean?"

"She... I killed so many while I was with Hydra. She told me how she simply couldn't understand people causing so much pain. Even with her weird mindreading thing she said, she could understand the Germans liking the Nazis more than those that caused a lot of pain and thought it was good. She was talking about the people that made me into this. But that's me too, right? I mean, I killed so many, I don't even know the number. I thought it was right. I caused a lot of pain too. And somehow, she doesn't see that. She's trying to help me!" Steve stared at the sky thoughtfully.

"I don't think she doesn't see that. I think she can see all of it. She has books on us and stuff. She probably knows the exact number. I guess she just knows that wasn't you. That the real James Buchanan Barns would never have even been able to do so."

"Even the Winter Soldier wasn't able to do so." Bucky's head shot around and his heart froze as the doctor spoke. Her voice was soft and pleasant, her eyes still closed at the sun. She didn't react to his sudden movement and the stunned silence. She didn't show whether she had been awake the whole time or had just caught the last snippet. Before he or Steve could ask, she continued.

"There are recordings and protocols of the Soldiers attacks on Steve you, Romanov, Wilson and the Hydra guy, and on the helecarriers Hydra tried to launch through SHIELD. Of course, the Soldiers targets are officially unknown, but it's easy to tell. When he attacked, Romanov and the Hydra traitor were the targets. The soldier never touched Wilson unless he was a threat, same with you. He only ever went after the Widow. And as soon as Romlow was there, the Soldier ceased attacking. The same on the carrier. The Soldier's mission was to prevent damage to the carriers and get rid of you, Steve. He only killed those men wanting to get into the planes to help destroy the carriers, and he only fought you and Sam because you were trying to mess up the programming. He never hurt anyone else. The Winter Soldier never did any more damage than he had to. Hydra's command over him might have been absolute at that point, but even then he did as little harm as he could." She opened her eyes and looked over at him, the same deep understanding in her eyes as she had had before.

"You think you're a bad person, that Hydra made you one, but every evidence speaks against that. For example, it's impossible to trace your route to Romania after you saved Steve's life. You went against the Soldier's programming with that, you were free from Hydra at that point. And at that point, you were Bucky Barnes again. There is not one burglary, not one report of injury or even murder, not one broken window that would allow anyone to trace your route. Because you didn't do any of that. You never hurt anyone, as soon as Hydra lost control over you. There are Hydra facilities in Romania. I'm sure you found them. You had an apartment there, you lived there, you had to know about them. But they still stand. You know why? Because James Buchanan Barnes is a good man, one of the very few very good men that find nothing in revenge. You were trying to escape your old life, build a new one, I've seen the photos of the apartment. You don't need to be converted back to your old self, you never lost that. All that's left to do is convince everyone else. Including yourself."

The doctor fell silent and turned her face back to the sun. Bucky couldn't find any words. Neither could Steve, so it seemed. They just sat in silence, trying to work through what the doctor had said. All of it was true, and completely reasonable once she had pointed it out. But Bucky still couldn't quite grasp the truth of her words.

"Oh, and 218." He looked back at her, but she was still talking to the sun, her eyes closed once more.

"That's how many people the Soldier killed. 218. Seargent Barnes though saved several thousand lives. At least that's what historians estimate. Without the Howling Commandos, several thousand people would have been killed that now have grandchildren." She opened her eyes again and caught his gaze, holding it with her eyes of spring leaves.

"Be careful when judging yourself, James Buchanan Barns. You are many things, so many. Do not leave any of them out, do not forget any of them. They all make you a great man, albeit a broken one," she smiled. Then she dropped her head back onto the log. "What do you think about spaghetti for dinner? And now that Steve's here, he might as well join us."

Steve laughed out loud, and even Bucky had to grin despite the words of the doctor still bouncing around in his head.


	8. Chapter 8

Day 2, 18:45

Bucky could still feel the sun on his face as he laid back on the bed. He had turned, and instead of facing the room and the door like usual, he was now looking outside his new window. It wasn't just one of the tiny little holes in the wall like the one he knew from his cell at SHIELD, but the whole wall had been replaced with glass. Steve had explained to him that it was safe to touch and how there were two layers. There was a current running through the two layers that would fry him dead if the glass was broken, but Bucky didn't plan to. He was staring outside, watching the sun nestle itself between the trees, and he was strangely content. He was still trapped in a cell in which he was most likely to spend the rest of his life, but it wasn't so bad now. No, he wasn't planning to get out.

They had spent the rest of the afternoon on the clearing, just talking. It had been relaxing, listening to Steve and the doctor, Dolores. The name felt a little strange in his mind, and some unknown impulse shortened it to Dot. Yeah, that felt right. Dot. The name tasted familiar on his tongue, but he wasn't quite sure why.

Before he could try to hunt the memory connected to Dot, he heard the door open. Despite the comfort of the day, his instincts kicked in immediately. He sat up and his muscles tensed while his heartbeat spiked. His eyes caught the position of every object in the room, scanning for emergency weapons. The swat sergeant stepped into the cell. Bucky immediately knew that something was wrong. The way he held his weapon, his finger cradling the trigger, the angry determination in his eyes. But Bucky didn't panic. His heartbeat steadied, his breathing was calm and his senses alert. The familiarity of the situation was almost comforting, and Bucky felt fully in his element.

"You kill one of my men and get rewarded," the swat muttered under his breath. He didn't step out of the door, and Bucky slowly rose from the bed. Immediately the swat trained his gun on him. Years of Hydra took over and he gave over his mind to his body. The swat opened fire, which Bucky blocked with his metal arm. His head and neck were protected, but one of the bullets stuck somewhere in his abdomen. Bucky grunted in pain, but it didn't stop him. He brushed over it and swung his fist at the swat. Grat hadn't expected the soldier to be so resilient, the evidence from the cameras had him seem more like a lamb waiting for slaughter. He had never seen the Winter Soldier move, never had seen him fight. The man that had lounged on the bed a second ago now jumped at him with the swiftness of a tiger. The relaxed slumping had turned to deadly precision. Grat stumbled at the hit and Bucky swiftly spun, clasping the man's throat with his metal hands. He pressed until the swats lips were blue and his eyes closed.

The unconscious body of the swat sunk to the floor. Bucky swung around. He knew the other swats had watched him over the cameras, they would be swarming the cell within minutes. Where was the doctor? Completely giving in to his instincts, Bucky raced out of the door. He knew the way out to the door, he had remembered it despite the blindfold that they had put on him when dragging him in here. He had almost laughed at their futile attempts to control him. He took out two other swats, while he turned to find the doctor. She had talked about an office. He swung around and looked down the hall. To the left was the way out, but despite everything in him screaming at him to get out, he turned to the right and stalked away from his escape route.

Two meters down the hall there was a door. It was ugly green with a name tag, but Bucky barely noticed any of that. He kicked down the door, expecting to hear the doctors surprised squeal, but there was only the shuffling of boots behind him. With eerily fast movements he put the door back up. The swats wouldn't fall for it if they came looking for him, but they saw him as a cruel criminal on the run, and truly, he heard the boots slamming past the door, racing after him.

Bucky veered around. He found the doctor lying on the floor behind her desk. He could hear voices rising from the hall, so he quickly picked her up. The assassins instincts inside him cheered as he scanned the room. They really had had no clue who they had built this for. He took the doctors mantle and wrapped it around his right hand, locking the doctor into the embrace of his metal arm. He smashed the window that had been built into the wall for some completely irresponsible reason, took hold of the doctor's backpack and leaped out of the window. He didn't bother with the shards that pierced themselves into his skin. He took hold of the doctor and ran. He raced to the forest, past the clearing he had laughed with Steve and the doctor just hours earlier. Had he had time and a different mind, he might have found the absurdity of the situation, but he had no time and his mind was focused and narrowed on one thing only. Escape.

His running was hindered by the lifeless body over his shoulder, but he managed to loose the swats after two hours, which again had him question their qualification. He kept the tempo for another hour or so until the light of day had faded completely, then he slowed to a halt. He was still surrounded by dense forest, which would work well for hiding for the night. He was after all the most wanted assassin in the United States right now, so hiding seemed like a good idea to him. He looked around and picked a tree with wide opening branches. Climbing with a nonresponsive body was difficult, but he managed to find a safe position for the doctor and himself, tying her to the stem with her coat for good measure. It would be cold for the night, but it would have to do. Not like he would be sleeping anyway. The adrenalin slowly faded from his bloodstream, and his mind cooled down. His heartbeat returned back to normal.

The sergeant had attacked him. He had stopped the sergeant. His mind raced over the details, processing a million sensory inputs at once, but he couldn't put them into a logical framework. Why had the sergeant attacked? Bucky knew a soldier wouldn't take revenge for a lost man on a mission, that was irresponsible and against military code. So there had to be another reason, but what was it? The swats had seemed like well-trained men, there was no way they would let themselves to emotion like that. Even if they were a bad batch, they would never have been chosen for the job.

Also, why the hell had he taken the doctor? She would have been completely fine staying in the compound, why the bloody hell did he take her?! A feeling in his gut told him he had made the right decision, but he simply couldn't figure out why. The doctor was a civilian, she had told him herself she was absolutely useless in a fight. Sure, that might have been meant to calm his mistrust, but it still rang true. It had been a stupid decision and Bucky cursed himself for being so sentimental. Yes, she had been nice to him, but so had Zola and Pierce been.

He had wanted to stay in that cell for Steve's contract, hoping that at least one of them could rebuild their lives, but that plan had gone to shit. He had to vanish. Nobody would give him a third chance, not after believing he had so spectacularly blown his second one, there was nobody he could run to. He felt no remorse at the thought. Lonlyness had always been his ally, he had always worked better alone. Teammates were hindrances or mule, nothing he really needed. He had to vanish. But to where? He had to get out of the country, the whole nation was probably looking for him by now, he couldn't stay. So to where?

The thoughts and questions bounced around his brain, chipping away at his skull. After what seemed like ages of racking his gray cells for an answer, Bucky decided to drop it for the night. Maybe the doctor could help him when she woke up. He leaned back against the tree and tried to fall back into his meditative state while holding on to the Glock 18 he had taken from one of the swats. Which was extremely hard considering the scorching pain in his abdomen and arms and the surging feeling of extasy as a gust of night wind gripped into his hair.

He was free. Shot, torn and weighed down by a wounded civilian, but free. It was all he could do to not have his heart burst out of his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

Day 3, 11:34

Dolores awoke with a start but didn't show it. One of the many lessons her father had taught her. She had learned more from him than she liked, but for now, she saw it as a good thing. She opened her eyes slowly after figuring out that the environment she was in was definitely an unfamiliar one, so she might as well check it out. James sat opposed to her. Dolores sighed.

"Okay, why the fuck am I tied to a tree?! How the hell did we get here?!" Her voice showed none of the panic she could feel coursing through her veins, it was calm and tinged with mild annoyance. Dolores was proud of herself. She went on to further investigate her situation. She was approximately way to bloody far from the ground, tied to the trunk of the tree with her coat, presumably, so she wouldn't fall off. James sat a bit further down the branch in a fork that allowed him to lean on it comfortably and was watching her, had been probably the whole night. Dolores hoped she hadn't talked in her sleep again. She didn't need him to know of her dreams too.

"How are you?" His voice was soft, strangely comforting. Her eyes skitted over his body, taking in his posture. He was more relaxed now than he had ever been in and around the cell, and Dolores had to hide a grin. The Winter Soldier in his natural habitat.

"Tied to a tree, confused, and my neck hurts. What the fuck happened? Last I know I left your cell and went back to my office. Next thing I'm in a tree." She looked at him slightly accusatory, demanding an answer. Again he just smiled slightly and pushed himself off his branch.

"If you let me look at your neck, I will tell you what happened." Dolores sighed and let her head fall forward so he could inspect the back of her neck. Apart from being stiff from the night, a slight constant throbbing was accompanied by a sting which seemed to originate from just below her hairline. She wasn't ready to give up her hold on the trunk yet, so he'd have to deal with this. Willing herself to ignore the strangeness of the situation as he leaned into her, gently prying apart her hair to get a better view of the source of the pain. She was sitting tied to a tree with her top security patient checking out an unfamiliar pain in the back of her neck and couldn't for the life of her remember how she got here. She pushed any thoughts away and tried to concentrate on the pain. Maybe she could recognize it. She had a doctorate, after all, she was a surgeon. Maybe not Stephen Strange levels, but she was decent enough and had learned how to place pain.

So, how would you describe the pain you're experiencing?

Well, doctor, it's a constant throbbing, like a second heart pumping out pain. But there's also a sting to it, right in the middle.

Mhmm, aha, yes, well, I see. Sounds like an injection.

"Looks like a needle injected you something." Her thought and James' voice rung out at the same time. Dolores tried to play it off cool, but in reality, she was internally screaming in panic.

"Yes, I've reached the same conclusion. So, now that you got to play doctor, may I ask why the fucking hell I wake up tied to a tree with my top security patient for whom an especially secure cell was built inspecting an unknown, badly done injection in my neck?"

"I'll explain. But we need to get moving. Can you climb?" For now, Dolores decided not to make a fuss and pound on the answer, she just nodded half-heartedly and untied the arms of her jacket around her waist. James went first, dropping himself one branch down, then to the floor. His movements were fast and precise and Dolores couldn't help but notice the lethal elegance they had to them. She also noticed he was wearing her backpack and a sudden wave of relief washed over her when she remembered what she had packed yesterday. She shook her past self's hands in thankfulness before she threw her jacket down to begin her less than graceful decent.

When her feet were finally firmly planted to the ground, James immediately started to move. He strode through the dense forest and Dolores found it somewhat difficult to catch up. She had always stayed clear of sport, and her laziness was biting her in the ass now. But only after a few minutes she noticed his labored breathing. He was breathing loudly. Something was wrong. She grabbed his wrist and planted her feet firmly into the ground to spin him around. He did with a hint of annoyance on his features. His problem. She quickly scanned him for wounds. Well, very quickly. The two huge bloodstains on his shirt in the area of his abdomen and his lower arms wasn't hard to miss. She wondered how she had before. A small voice in the back of her head teased her with how she had been too caught up in mystery man's handsomeness, but she pushed the voice aside. She had other problems.

James had clearly noted her discovery but still tried to pull her onwards. She stood her ground. The mild annoyance turned to slight anger when he turned to her again. Dolores wanted to shrink back, but the doctor in her took over. Thank god, the growing fury in those cold eyes would have left her crying like a little girl.

"I can fix you up. You lie down and let me work, meanwhile you explain." He tried to shrug of her hand but her grip was firm, digging her nails into his flesh.

"It's fine. And we really need to move." She pointed at his abdomen.

"You won't get anywhere with that. It's easier to fix up now, when it's still fresh, than later when it's infected and you have blood poisoning." She returned his glare and just pointed at a tree that had relatively shallow roots so that he could lean against it comfortably and almost be lying down. Sterile as shit, but it would have to do until she could figure out where she was and what the hell she had gotten herself into. Still glaring, James complied. She traded him her jacket for the backpack so that he could use it to cushion his head. She kneeled down beside him and opened the frontmost compartment of her backpack to reveal the biggest first aid kit she could have gotten her hands on. James looked at her questioningly but Dolores just shrugged while carefully prying his shirt up to his chest.

"I like to be prepared. It's a habit that's only helped 'till now." The first aid kit was a constant in the bag, she never removed it and took it with her everywhere. She ripped open the package of a gauze and drenched it in alcohol before she started dabbing away the horrendous amounts of blood on his chest and abdomen. Soon she got lost in the muscles of his body, but like Nessy would have. Rectus abdominis, external abdominal oblique, rectus sheath. Soon all the blood was washed away and she was left with a clean shot wound on his side. She could feel his eyes on her.

"No need to stare like that. I didn't get you shot, not my fault I have to touch you. And stop fucking worrying, I am a doctor, I am bound by an oath not to harm you."

"That oath can be interpreted very differently," he muttered before he hissed as she started disinfecting the wound.

"Still. If I wanted you dead, I could have just let you bleed to death. You're lucky it's so close to the side or you wouldn't have made the night."

"I know." She shot him a glance before she took up a syringe with a local anesthetic. She saw his eyes widen at the instrument.

"This is some local anesthetic. The bullet is still inside, so I'll have to get it out. It's easier for both od us if you can't feel me fingering around inside of you." He shot her another skeptical glare but didn't protest as she injected the numbing agent into the areas around his wound. It would take a few minutes to take effect, so she prepared the tools she'd need, ripping open another gauze, and a bandage, as well as a pair of tongues and taking out two rolled gauzes which she left in their package.

"Now, if you would be so kind as to elaborate on our situation." James furrowed his brow but gave up on glaring at her for now.

"After you left yesterday, the Seargent came in. He said something about one of his men dying, then he started shooting. I knocked him out and ran for it. You were unconscious in your office, so I made a run for it. You didn't wake up, so I went up the tree so we wouldn't have to run through the night." Dolores nodded and started probing the flesh around the wound. Her mouth did it's thing while she fully concentrated on the wound in front of her. Feeling his nervous eyes on her, she continued talking, even though her full mind was on working the tongues.

"So why the tree? Couldn't we have stayed on the ground?" James looked at her in surprise and puzzlement.

"You're really calm about all of this... You sure you're not an agent of a sort?" Dolores moved the tongues carefully until she could feel the resistance of the foreign body.

"Would you prefer me panicking?"

"No."

"Yeah, me neither. Panic doesn't help anyone. I'll panic when I know the full scope of this. Still, why the tree?" She carefully maneuvered the tongues to the bullet and grabbed it.

"Humans weren't designed to look up. So most often they don't." Dolores nodded as if she'd actually paid attention and started pulling out the bullet.

"Okay. So what's our current plan?"

"Our plan? Our plan is to get you back to a city. Then my plan is to get the fuck out of here."

"Ha!" Triumphantly Dolores held up the bullet. She quickly let it drop to the floor and immediately got out the needle and some thread.

"No, I don't think that's a good plan." She could feel him tensing up under her, probably in frustration and regret of ever saving that blabbermouth of hers. After five stitches the wound was closed and she started applying some disinfectant before putting on the gauze. She applied pressure with the two rolled packages before tying them to the wound with the bandage. James wanted to get up, probably to get as much distance between him and her, but she just held him down. His anger frightened her, anger being the one emotion she really couldn't deal with, but her doctorate gave her courage and authority she would normally never have. She shuffled closer to him and gently pried off his sleeves from his flesh arm. The cuts were clean, like from glass. And really, there were still splinters of glass in his arm. She took up the tongues again and started picking out the splitter. As he clearly didn't deem her worthy of a response, she just kept talking to concentrate.

"I mean, you have a shot wound and an open arm, and I was injected with some mystery liquid that knocked me out for the whole night. They way I took it, they'll think you broke out, so our best bet is getting to New York. That's where Steve and the others are set up. He'll know how to fix this mess. I mean, we can definitely trust him, if there is anyone that believes in you, it's Steve. Seeking his protection seems the most logical thing right now." She had picked out all the glass shards and wiped the wound with disinfectant and gauze for some good measure. When she was sure the cuts were clean, she applied fresh gauze and wrapped the whole thing up.

As soon as she was done, James stood up and started walking. Dolores sighed and hastily grabbed what of the instruments she might still use once sterilized, stuffed it in her backpack and jogged after him. She slowed down about five meters behind him and just followed him. His movements were faster, cleaner now, and Dolores was satisfied he seemed to be feeling less pain. But that didn't seem to make him think he could slow down for her. She understood what he was trying, to shake her off. He knew she had her phone on her, she would find her way to civilization, but she wasn't going to be gotten rid of that easily. She picked out her phone and turned it off before she continued her mental rant. He needed help, not only his mind but his soul and as it seemed, his body also. And she was his doctor. Just because the circumstances had changed, didn't mean her responsibility towards him had. She had fled from that responsibility once before, she wasn't going to make that mistake again.

That thought sent a pang of pain into her chest and winced quietly. But the pain wasn't the usual little stab, today it decided to linger. It made itself a nest of thorns around her heart and bristled it's spines to stab it with every beat. This situation was just too familiar. She stopped and dropped the pack. She rummaged around in the back compartment until she had found what she was looking for. Quickly she took it out and put the pack back on. James had moved on, putting a good hundred meters between them now, but Dolores didn't mind that. She kept following him, clutching the watercolor set to her chest. She had lost the normal one, but she hadn't dared leave Nessy's set on the shelf while the workers were in there, too afraid it might be broken or stolen.

Dolores tried to distract herself from her thoughts and the lingering pain in her chest that even overpowered the one in her neck, but it had no use. The thoughts kept swirling, and without music to drone them out there was nothing she could do. Soon tears were falling down her cheeks and she was glad the Soldier was so far ahead. He wouldn't be able to tell her uneven breathing from breathlessness and wouldn't be able to see her tears. She tried to steer her mind to happier memories, but that changed little, except that she was now smiling while crying.

They walked for hours and soon Dolores lost her feeling for both time and her feet. She definitely wasn't wearing the right shoes for a daylong hike, but she didn't make a sound. The Soldier ahead still wanted to get rid of her, and she wouldn't give him the chance to. He might not see it, but she could help him. Successful running from the country meant he would have to sleep, and the way she saw it, she was the only one that had been able to grant him that in some time.

However, her theory was upheaved when the sun set, the forest grew dark, and they were still walking. Her feet were killing her by now, but she had already gotten used to that, but now the un-coordinance of tiredness added to that. She fell further and further behind. Her stomach was growling and her throat was killing her. Ignoring the first two problems, she stared at the Soldiers back, willing herself not to fall further back, while working on the latter. Just when she had realized she could clean water with the stuff in her bag, she caught a glimpse of him.

He wasn't so much angry at her, as he was scared. Not terrified, not really scared. But the small unease of knowing something was off. He didn't know what to do with her, didn't understand why she was still following him. She often forgot that others couldn't read her as well as she could read them. He still toyed with the thought of her being an agent, but it didn't seem plausible which only worsened his confusion. If he didn't know her motive, he couldn't predict her actions.

In her mind, she tried to formulate a way in which she could convince him not to worry, but nothing seemed to sound right. She had already told him she was useless and therefore no threat and telling him that again would only encourage him to leave her behind. She could explain to him why she was following him, but even she wasn't sure of that. It was a weird mixture of responsibility towards him, her oath, Steve, and Nessy. If she couldn't explain it to herself, how could she even try to explain it to herself?

Her thoughts were interrupted when she suddenly almost ran into him. She had been so focused on her feet, willing them to keep walking and not stumble over something, she only saw him when he was right in front of her. She skidded to a halt and fell over her own feet. He watched her with cold calculating eyes as she tried to prop herself up on her shaking hands. He bent down, and when she saw what he was aiming at, she sprang at the little metal case, faster than even he could react. Surprised he looked down.

"Don't fucking touch it," she hissed. Taken aback by her sudden hostility, he straightened himself back up and started climbing the nearest tree. Immediately sorry for what she had said, Dolores curled up at the roots of another tree, carefully taking off her shoes. She was happy to note that no blisters had formed yet and massaged her feet which felt like bleeding stump. She didn't let go of the metal case once.

Her thoughts circled around what she had said, and the shocked and slightly hurt look in his eyes before he climbed the tree. Every time she replayed the words they became worse and worse, cutting deeper and deeper, and every time she pictured his look again, it became more and more hurt. No wonder. He had judged her to be nice and kind. Maybe he had actually even trusted her, trusted her not to hurt him. Eventually, she started crying again, her head pounding, only adding to her hurting feet and throbbing neck. The pain made her cry even harder and she huddled over the metal case, drawing herself into a tight ball. She didn't make a sound and had no intentions of stopping the flow of tears, panic, fear and hurt. She had to let it out now, then she would be fine tomorrow. She kept repeating that sentence like a mantra until the clicking of a gun against her ear made her mind freeze.


	10. Chapter 10

Day 3, 21:43

"Get up slowly. Don't get any idea or you and your precious Soldier are dead meat." Dolores swallowed and got up. The man beside her was afraid. He was angry and vicious and bloodthirsty, but beneath that thin sheet of pretended strength, he was afraid. He was afraid of a danger he knew was there and would hit him, but he couldn't place the nature of it and how to handle.

Dolores breathing quickened. How could she know that? She hadn't even seen his face, hadn't seen him move! His hand on the back of her neck grew rougher and tore her up. The sudden move pressed the barrel of the gun right into her temple and caused her to stumble, making her loose the grip on Nessy's metal case. It clattered to the floor and opened, spilling a letter and six tiny pans onto the forest floor. Dolores let out a terrified squeal and wanted to grasp the colors, but a searing pain tore through the arm that had been reaching out and a sound like lightning, tearing through the air. Fire severed through her arm, her whole arm was on fire. She wanted to cry and fear and terror took over her mind.

Until the man with the gun stepped on the now empty metal case and dug it into the ground.

James had heard the doctors crying and had wondered whether he should climb back down. But he didn't know what he should have done once he would have gotten down there, so he stayed up in the tree. He would have to deal with his own confusion, with his own questions first. For example, why the hell she was following him. She was clearly having a hard time keeping up, but she didn't stop. He knew she could just call anyone on her phone, get Steve or her family to pick her up. She had patched him up, she had seen the danger posed to her if she stayed close, but still, she was trying her best to keep up. She had stopped at one point and he had hoped to have lost her, but she kept following him after a few minutes. But why? He hadn't done anything to make her like him, and her employment had to have been lifted after his escape. She only put herself in a worse light by sticking around. It confused him and he tried to shake the terrible buzzing of thoughts out of his head. That's when he heard the click.

The unlocking of the safety of a gun was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. And as was the reaction. His body tensed and he turned towards the sound before the realization had even hit his brain. He heard the sentence muttered into the doctor's ear and immediately scanned the area for other areas. They wouldn't have sent one man to kill him. Hydra knew better than that. Suddenly a shot echoed through the forest and Bucky spun around. He heard the doctor's cry and saw the blood flow down her arm. Then suddenly something happened.

The soldier took a step forward and the doctor tensed. Something under her left sleeve started to glow, as did something in her face, and the soldier started to scream. He dropped his gun as his body contorted in pain from an invisible source and the screams that echoed through the forest were not human anymore. Animalistic screeching tore from the soldier's throat, his convulsing throat forcing out sounds that seemed more like a banshee's cry rather than anything that human vocal cords should be able to produce. But it wasn't long. The soldier thrashed around, desperately trying to hit the source of his pain until his movements became more slurry, weaker. Then he suddenly dropped and moved no more.

James was shocked to stay the least. Fear dug its claws into his heart, but he shook it off. He had to get away from here. The gun shots and the screams had pinned them, they had to move. Swiftly he let himself drop from the tree The wound in his abdomen had started to hurt again, but it was much better than before and his head wasn't as dizzy from blood loss anymore. The doctor seemed to be unconscious beside the soldier, who, James noticed, was dead. She was still carrying the backpack, which he quickly pried off her back to pull it over his own shoulders. Again, he picked her up and had already started moving when he saw a sliver of silver on the ground. The colors. They seemed too unimportant to stop, but then he remembered to soft crunching sound that had reached his ears just before the soldier had started screaming. He saw the metal case dug into the ground and quickly set the doctor down. If she had done that, whatever it was, to the soldier who had just stepped on the empty case, he didn't want to know what would happen if she learned he had left it behind. Swiftly he shook the dirt out of the case and quickly swooped up the six little glittering discs of color and the folded sheet of paper, enclosed them back into the metal box and put it into the pocket of his pants. He took the doctor into his arms and started moving.

He didn't know if she was knocked out because of the long march or because of what she had done, but it made it easier to move at his pace. But while he had nothing but the ground and the sounds of the forest to distract himself, his thoughts started spinning again.

What the hell had happened back there? Had the doctor done that on purpose? Had she known? Of course, she had, she had to have known? Would she have told him? Why had she kept it hidden? What else had she kept hidden from him? Why the hell was he taking a woman with him he knew so little about? Was she only more danger? She was careless and untrained, as had been shown to him yet again. Why was he slowing himself down with her? He didn't need sleep, he could move faster without her being a hindrance.

A little voice in the back of his head knew. Because she was in just as much danger as he was. Because he had heard the same fear in her crying that he had felt ever since being discovered in Romania.

He shook his head. He had to concentrate. He had to find a safe place and put a bandage on her wound. He concentrated on moving efficiently and quickly and soon fell into the welcomed trance of the Soldier on a mission.

After walking for a good hour, he heard nothing but the sounds of the forest around him and the silent stalking of his own boots on the forest floor. As soon as he was sure that nobody had followed them this far, he put the doctor down. Her face was pale and her brown furrowed as if she was having a nightmare. He found the bandages she had used on him earlier and tore open the packages. He didn't know what the doctor had used to disinfect his wound, but he knew that the first priority was to stop the blood loss. He tried to put pressure on the bandage and soon the red flower on the bandage stopped growing. He picked her up again and kept walking. He shifted her so that she had her arms draped around his neck and her legs under his arms. It was easier to remain his balance like this and he could clearly see where he was going. Eventually, he slowed down a bit, adjusting his tempo so that he could maintain the tempo for the whole night.

Dolores woke up in the Soldiers arms. Her head rested against his right arm and she could sense... everything. She felt his confusion, mostly at himself but also at her. She felt the slight knot of fear that had latched onto his stomach, like a black tumor that was always there, as long as he could remember and that lashed out at every sound that was not the soft rustling of his boots. She felt his concentration, the thousand thoughts that crashed around his head.

Terrified at the sudden intensity of her understanding, Dolores jerked up, breaking contact with his skin. Only now did he notice that she was awake. He stopped and put her down, and for the first time did she feel the harsh sting in her arm. He dropped her backpack beside her and Dolores furrowed her brow, trying to remember how she had ended up in the Soldiers arms. She remembered him storming ahead, wanting to loose her. They had stopped and he had climbed up a tree. Then her memory got lost as if a trail of ink suddenly touched water. She tried to grasp the trail, tried to follow the line of ink, but it blurred, vanished into the black ocean, and she gasped. The Soldier, James, looked at her, a hint of worry in his eyes.

But he interpreted her little sound of anguish different. Immediately his attention turned to her arm, where pain of fire started to scorch her nerves. He gently pushed her jacket away and started unwrapping the blood-soaked gauze.

"Sorry," he said, meaning the pain that was forcing tears into her eyes. "I don't know how to do this." He gestured towards the gauze that now lay on the forest floor. Dolores tried to think through her pain.

"Hydra never bothered to teach you first aid? What if you got wounded?" He shrugged his shoulders and opened the backpack.

"They taught me the basics. Don't loose blood, keep it clean." He shoved the backpack towards her so that she could reach the supplies with her uninjured right hand. "I only had to get back to the base, the doctors would fix me up." Dolores noticed the ice in his voice as he mentioned the doctors, again making her wonder what they had done to install such a deep instinctual fear in him.

"Okay. No problem. I can't do anything with only one hand, but you just have to follow my instructions." She handed him a square gauze and the disinfectant. "You have to clean away the blood, see if there's anything in the wound, shrapnel, dirt, anything. Is the bullet still inside?" James shook his head and Dolores leaned back her head in relief. She trusted James to be careful, she could clearly sense his worry, but she still didn't feel so confident at the thought of him poking around in her arm with the tongs. He leaned closer to her arm, inspecting the wound closely, dabbing away any blood and dirt that had settled in and around it.

"Okay, if it's all clean, spray the disinfectant directly onto the wound. Enough that it starts running down. That will..." Dolores pulled in her breath sharply through her gritted teeth as the alcohol touched the wound. It was a pain she was familiar to, but she still wasn't prepared for the second layer of fire surging through her veins. James' eyes shot up to her, trying to see if he had done anything wrong.

"That will wash out any remaining dirt and keep infections at bay," she gasped and tried to control her breathing. She pointed at a clean rolled gauze.

"Good. Now wrap it up." He ripped open the package with ease and carefully placed the sterile patch on the wound before wrapping the rest of the bandaging around her arm. Dolores concentrated on her breathing and the pain. A sudden squeal escaped her lips as his fingers brushed her arm and a sudden wave of foreign worry, fear, wonder and confusion washed over her. Immediately James stopped but she motioned him to go on. His skin didn't touch hers again and a thought began nagging at her mind.

The pain at the back of her neck. Probably an injection. James' headache the first night. He had said that the Sergeant had entered his cell alone and that all the other swats had chased him down after he had knocked the Sergeant out. The sudden flashes of emotion.

When she spoke, her words were slow, stumbling over her tongue unwillingly, as unfinished and confused as the thought they represented, unsure what to do, now that they hung in the air.

"James..." His attention shifted from closing the backpack to her. "What happened? The last thing I can remember is you climbing up the tree. I stayed on the floor. What happened then?" Again worry dashed over his face, too fleeting to see, but Dolores sensed it.

"A soldier from the swat pointed his gun at your head and made you stand up. You lost the box you were holding and wanted to get it. He shot you. He stepped on the case. Then he started screaming and screaming and then dropped dead. You were unconscious. I picked you up and got out of there." Dolores nodded slowly, images of last night trailing after his words like lazy ducklings. When he mentioned the case her head snapped up.

"The case. You have it?" Panic simmered into her voice, and she felt like she might cry in relief when he took out the case and handed it to her. There was a small scratch on the bottom of it, but otherwise, it seemed unharmed. Dolores held on to the case as if letting it go meant death. But her relief was short-lived when her thoughts returned to last night.

"Why did the soldier die?" James shrugged his shoulders, and Dolores knew that he was hiding something from her. He was unsure, didn't know what had happened and that terrified him.

"Something on your arm and your face started glowing and he screamed. I couldn't see, I was behind you. Then he suddenly dropped dead." Dolores nodded, her terrible suspicion growing firmer and firmer.

"I think we might have a problem." Her voice faltered to nothing but a whisper and she clutched the case even tighter. Before James could answer, she kept talking.

"What were you doing after I left you on the first night?" Her gaze bored into him, trying to detect every little hint, every emotion. Her stare made him uncomfortable, and he grew unsure, not knowing what she was getting at.

"Nothing." Her eyes bored into him and he looked away.

"I don't know what to call it. It's what I used to do between Hydra missions when they were too close together for them to freeze me. It clears my mind and makes me forget time." Dolores nodded, gaining a sudden sense of the feeling he was describing. The intensity of the insight shocked her, shocked her because it fitted perfectly with her theory, the one she desperately wanted to be wrong.

"What do you notice when you are doing that?" James shrugged his shoulders, letting his gaze drift over the forest, subconsciously scanning for anything that wasn't supposed to be there.

"Nothing really. I don't need to pay attention, Hydra would beat me if I was ready to jump for them or not, so it was easier to just snap out of it at the pain. Like that, I only 'woke up' if it was really a mission, and not at every single sound." Dolores nodded.

"Okay. Fuck."

"Why are you asking that?"

"I think I know what happened..." Her voice trailed off and broke.

"What happened?" Dolores nodded. She drew a shaky breath and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before she started to explain her theory.

"Both of the soldiers that attacked you, us, were from that swat team. So I guess it's safe to assume the whole team was Hydra." James tensed at that thought, but she saw that he thought it was reasonable. "They didn't want to bust you out, they could have done that while bringing you here, or at night while I was gone. No, they wanted you in an environment you couldn't break out of. The rest is guessing on my part, but it would make sense." His eyes bore into her, and suddenly she found his gaze intimidating. What if she was right? Would he still tolerate her sticking to him? Dolores closed her eyes to keep talking.

"If they wanted you in a cell for something, they could have taken you, would make things easier. But they wanted you in that specific one. Steve told me some things about it, it was originally built for the Hulk, something much stronger than you. My guess is that your headaches came from a serum they injected you. They wanted to try to alter you even further. You're their best, so why not try to enhance you. The serum probably clashed with the Super-soldier serum, that's the headaches." Dolores tried to breathe steadily while her own thoughts made more and more sense to her as she spoke them out loud.

"When they saw it didn't work on you, they gave it to me. I don't know why, but I'm guessing that's the injection." She felt for the sensitive spot stat still stung in pain as she touched it.

"They wanted to kill you and take me instead. Since you were in that cell, they probably saw it as an easy feat. Maybe that's why the team was so bad." She laughed nervously. James stared at her, trying to process what she had just said.

"Why do you think it was a serum?" His voice was calm and quiet. Dolores thought how his exterior was always inversely proportional to the situation.

"I'm guessing it's a mixture of what the Scalet Witch got and what you and Steve got. Enhancing psychological characteristics."

"Why?" Dolores realized she hadn't answered his original question.

"The soldier. I think he was in pain because I wanted him to be. He stepped on Nessy's case, and in that moment, I was so angry and in so much pain, I just wanted him to feel what I was feeling. I wanted him to be in as much pain as I was. And then there's this." Dolores slowly stretched her fingers out. James backed away, eyeing her trembling hand like a dangerous animal.

"It won't hurt." Her skin grazed his and Dolores drew a sharp breath as her suspicions were confirmed. She could feel exactly what he was feeling. Fear. Confusion. Slow burning terror. Pain from his abdomen. Worry. Hatred.

Dolores tore her hand away, tears in her eyes. She didn't want to cry again, but it seemed like the whole world was crashing down on her, burying her beneath its uncaring weight. She held on to Nessy's metal box for dear life as the Soldier stared at her, unsure whether to worry or be terrified of shivering woman in front of him.

"We need to go to New York."


	11. Chapter 11

Day 4, 7:09

James shook his head.

"No. You need to go to New York." Dolores looked up. She could see the resolution building inside of him. She wondered if the serum had also enhanced her ability to sense emotions, even without touch.

"Please, James. You can't just leave me here." Dolores could feel more tears building up inside of her and she rubbed them away from her eyes with her healthy hand. "I mean, of course, you can, but please don't. I need your help!"

Bucky looked at the woman in front of him, begging him to stay. The absurdity of that thought struck him. People only ever begged him to leave. To spare them. Flashes of crying faces twisted in terror and anguish flashed before his mind and he closed his eyes to force them away. He looked at the woman. Her theory made sense, which meant she now also had powers. He might not have her skills, but he could easily understand what she was feeling. He knew that feeling all too well. He remembered it from the first few times he woke up. The sudden loss of control, the sudden fear of oneself. The feeling of every safety being ripped from you, even your own body, your own mind foreign and hostile.

He wanted to run, flee from the tentacles of Hydra inching ever closer. He wanted to disappear like the ghost the stories told he was, vanish from the radar of humanity and try to understand his fractured soul and body in peace, away from the face of the world, where nobody would find him, where nobody could touch him. Everything in him wanted to flee the constant stirrings of humanity, run to a place where the air never moved, where not a single human breath but his ruptured the air.

His gaze fell on the crying woman in front of him again. He was amazed at how much she could cry. They didn't have enough water to replace all those tears. Her face was swollen and her eyes were red. He pulled out the half empty water bottle of the doctor, Dot, from the backpack and gave it to her.

"You cry a lot," he noted. She stared at the bottle.

"I usually don't. I haven't cried in four years." A sad smile brushed her lips with wings of distant memory.

"Nessy was the last one to see me cry. Actually, the only one. She was the only one to ever see me cry." Bucky watched her face, tried to read it like she could read him, but he couldn't grasp anything but a painfully beautiful smile.

"I will take you to New York. When you are safe, I will go." Her eyes shot up to meet his and immediately he turned his gaze away. He wanted to tell himself he did that to avoid her reading him better than she already could. But he knew why. He feared already that he would not be able to keep his promise.

A smile exploded on her lips.

"Thank you! But you can also stay. I want to go to the place were Steve stays. All the Avengers stay there, or at least most of them do. Some of them have pretty amazing abilities, they can keep us safe." Bucky just shook his head. The smile faded from her face, but she didn't cry again.

"How will we get there?" Dot reached out to the backpack with her right hand, leaving the metal case in her lap, and started rummaging in one of the compartments until she pulled out her cellphone. She stared at it for a while before she spoke.

"I guess I'll just call Steve. He can have Stark locate us."

"So can Hydra." Dolores nodded as if she had already thought of that.

"Yeah, I know. But you can hide us, can't you? We'll just climb up a tree, call them, and only come down when Steve comes to get us." Bucky wanted to smile at her naivety, how she thought that trick might work twice, but he didn't. He realized it was the only idea they had right now. He would have to change tactics slightly, but the concept would still work. He nodded.

"Can you walk?" Dolores nodded. She stuffed both her phone and the case into the pockets of her jacket, pulled it back on while hissing in pain and scrambled to a stand. Bucky watched her eagerness in amusement, then he packed up the backpack and swung it onto his shoulder. He left the trash they had produced where it was, knowing it would be like breadcrumbs for the soldiers looking for them. Now they just had to find a good place to hide, as close by as possible.

They started walking slowly, Bucky in the lead, Dot trailing behind him. He took in their surroundings, carefully listening for any sound that was out of place. But since finding, climbing onto and helping Dot up a seemingly impossible to climb, high tree wasn't too hard, his thoughts went spiraling out of control.

Most of all, he wondered why he had agreed to help her. Whenever he asked himself that question, his mind drifted back to the first time she had come into the cell. She hadn't been afraid. No, she had been furious, but not with him. She almost had seemed to take no notice of him. As if he was just another patient she could ignore until she wanted to talk to him. In her own strange way, she had treated him normally. She had brought things she treasured into the cell. She had painted in the cell. Bucky tried to remember whether anybody had ever done something so normal in his vicinity. He couldn't. Maybe that was the reason he felt so strangely attached to her. Because she had trusted him. She had trusted him the way a human instinctively trust another. With her, he had never been a weapon, a tool, a broken pile of shards or just another psycho. The way she treated him made him feel just a little more human.

Bucky could feel a small smile plucking at his lips as he watched her settle against a branch fork. It confused him. He wasn't sure anymore what he wanted, and that confused him more than her behavior towards him.

Her question interrupted his thoughts.

"Shouldn't we get further away?" She pointed at the trash about fifty meters away from them. "They'll no we were here." James nodded. He was startled at how easily the words slipped from his lips. The same in the cell. He hadn't wanted to talk to anybody at all, but the words just escaped the prison of his lips, slipped past the guard of his teeth.

"They will see that whoever of us is wounded, is not wounded badly. There is not enough blood for that. They will only we are still mobile and will try to guess where we went. Getting as far from here makes the most sense since we were apparently in such a hurry that we couldn't even cover our tracks. They will look for tracks, but not for us."

An odd sensation tugged at his stomach and he watched a strange fire light up in her eyes. It seemed happy, but not only. It was amazement.

"That's awesome. I get now why it took forever to find you." She smiled. She was talking about Romania. Bucky felt the urge to imitate her smile, but all he could muster was a sad upwards tug of his lips. Dot took her phone out of her pocket and looked at him, the obvious question in her eyes. She nodded.

She thumbed around on the phone for a while before she seemed to find the right button and held it to her ear. Her whole face followed her words. It lit up at "Hey Steve!" and turned into a patient smile as the person on the other line seemed to rant away. She rolled her eyes sarcastically whenever she said "yes", "I know", and "sure". Only once did her smile falter when she was able to talk. "Sure, please do. But the Hydra swats are also still following us, so James said, so hurry up. We'll come out when we see you. Codeword is the first sentence I ever said to you." Childlike excitement mixed into her gleam at the last sentence and she hung up. As soon as she looked up at him, her emotions were reserved again, controlled. A pang of envy struck his guts. He wondered if her emotions would ever run as freely when he was around. He forced the thought out of his head. He would be long enough for that. As soon as she was safe with Steve, he would be gone.


	12. Chapter 12

Day 4, 7:46

Moving her left arm sent streaks of fire through her whole body, but Dolores clenched her teeth together. She had gotten three bandages out of the bag. One was already wrapped around her left hand, but wrapping the second around turned out to be far more painful. But eventually, she managed to tie the bandage and let out the breath she had held. She waited until the pain subsided before turning to the third bandage. She tore open the packaging and began binding Nessy's metal case to her hip, fastening it at her belt. She'd never lose it again.

She felt James' eyes on her and sensed his wonder at her actions. When she was done she looked up and smile. She held up her now completely bandaged hands.

"I don't want to touch you by accident." James furrowed his brow in further confusion. Without having to guess, she knew what he was thinking. It was an advantage, knowing what the enemy was feeling. He couldn't understand why she would give up such an advantage, especially when she couldn't defend herself from him.

"Enough people have poked around in you without permission. Therapy is always built on trust. And especially now when I'm at your mercy," she winked. He was startled and looked away and Dolores closed her eyes to find comfort in the sounds of the forest and the metal strapped to her leg.

All of this was so surreal. One day she was working in a hospital, staying awake all night, pondering over files and patients, next thing, Captain America asked her to help the Winter Soldier. And now she was on the run from Hydra and about every Government in the World. She wondered how Steve was planning to hold his promise. But that was his and Starks problem. She shuddered at the name and her hand fled to the box. She just hoped that she would be able to stay with James.

Her mind froze at the thought. What?! She couldn't deny the truth of the sentence. She didn't want him to be alone. But why?! She tried to tell herself that it was purely professional interest. He had started to open up to her, her methods had worked. It might be fatal to switch to another psychologist, the implications of such a move maybe causing him to shut off altogether. But she knew herself that that wasn't all. She felt a strange sort of attachment to him that went beyond professional responsibility. But she managed to write even that off as professional. He was a broken spirit, it was only natural for her to want him to have a friend, someone to trust. It would aid his shattered mind to heal.

...

The sound of a chopper tore her out of her thoughts. Both she and James were staring at the sky, the roaring of the machine deafening. The sounds tore through the air and whirled Dolores' mind around. James' gaze, however, was fixated on the ground, where a tall man with a familiar shield and cap inspected the trash they had left on the ground to throw off the Hydra swats. Dolores grinned and moved to climb down the tree, but James held her back. His whole figure was tense, his cold eyes taking in every move the Captain made. He was absolutely still as the Hydra training seemed to kick in. Even unmoving like this he seemed dangerous, deadly. Dolores had seen Captain America fight and had always been impressed by his purposeful, strong movements, but the Soldier was something completely different. He climbed several branches lower with lethal precision, every move wanted and necessary, never moving further, wasting more energy than needed. Captain America had always reminded Dolores of a lion with all his strength and blonde hair, but now he seemed more like a flightless canary, preyed upon by a panther.

James motioned her to stay where she was. He didn't even look back to see whether she agreed. The command structure was clear. In this moment, James, the Soldier was the most powerful man. Like a shadow he dropped to the floor, invisible in the foliage he had hidden in. The Captain hadn't even noticed yet, still looking for tracks. He began pulling out a sleek device, probably to check up on the coordinates when a knife pressed itself into his throat and he froze. Nothing but the knife touched him, giving him nothing but the cold metal blade to go on.

Dolores stared at the action below her in amazement. She had no idea where James had hidden the knife or where he had gotten it from. She hadn't been able to warn the Captain as she had lost sight of the Soldier as soon as he had dropped to the floor. She was as surprised as the Captain when James pressed the knife to his throat. She dared not shriek, unsure how the Soldier might react.

The Captain did his best to keep calm. His heart raced at the unidentified threat, but the tension ceased as he heard a painfully familiar rough voice behind him.

"What is the sentence?" Dolores grinned as the Captain repeated the words she had told James earlier.

"Sure am. Come in, reek havoc, have some coffee." The Captain took a step forward and James released him, tucking the knife back into his boot. Dolores wondered is he had a special compartment. She made her way to the lower branched when suddenly a hand pressed itself onto her mouth and a gunshot sounded below.

Steve snapped around as a gunshot tore through the air. He heard Bucky beside him hiss in pain. He scanned his friend quickly as Bucky's metal hand held his wounded shoulder. Blood painted the silver red, but Bucky paid no attention to it. He pulled a pistol from his belt and held it steady in his metal hand. Then hell broke loose.

Seven men in black uniform ran at them, three from up front and two each from the side. Another fell from a tree further away, dragging something with him. Steve instinctively blocked the first bullets with his shield, while Bucky hid behind his metal arm. They moved like one body, Steve kicking one of the men on the left in the guts, following up with a punch to the face which left the man on the floor. He blocked the second guy's attempts to hit his head with his shield and knocked the vibranium into his neck, leaving the man choking, defenseless against Steve's elbow against his nose. Both men down, Steve whirled around to help Bucky. Both men that had tried to come at them from the right were already dead, blood seeping from neat holes between their eyes, one of the four men that had come straight at them was clutching the stump where his right hand should have been. Three were left standing. One of them held Bucky's knife to his throat, the second was securing something to his metal arm and the third was aiming a gun right at Steve. He grinned.

"Drop the shield, Captain America!" Steve could feel his blood boiling a the mocking tone in the man's voice, but he knew he had to keep his calm. He unfastened his shield from his arm and set it down on the floor.

"Hands up!" Steve slowly lifted his arms, folding his hands behind his head. Seemingly satisfied, the gunman turned his attention the Bucky, whose expression was rigid with pain and the device on his arm seemed to send electric shocks through it, immobilizing it. Steve wanted to help his friend, but he was very aware of both of their vulnerability. One move and both of them were dead.

A fourth man joined the three, dragging Dolores with him. Her face seemed to compete with the bandage on her arm for the whitest color. Her eyes were full of fear as her look fled from him to the armed men. The man that held her had cuffed her hands before her body. He kicked her knees from behind her, causing her to fall to her knees beside Bucky. Steve couldn't help but notice the glances his friend was stealing at the doctor.

"Well, isn't this the jackpot. Captain America, the mutant doctor and the great Winter Soldier," the man with the knife started. He seemed to be the leader of the group.

"You know, you're not half as scary as the stories they tell," the man addressed Bucky. He just glared back at him, not answering, not moving. The man turned his attention to the knife on Bucky's throat.

"They don't really want you back. As a collectible, but as an asset, you're now worthless, now that we have the doctor." He began sliding the blade gently over Bucky's throat.

"I could slit your throat, right here, and nobody would give a shit."

"No!" Dolores' eyes were wide in panic, her voice shrill. The man with the knife threw his hand across her face without letting go of the knife, the sound of bone hitting flesh and the doctors cry of pain mixing. She fell, robbed of her balance, blood seeping over her neck, oozing from the cut across her jar. Steve couldn't help but marvel the man's precision. From the dialogue, he took that they were really only after her, and Steve was impressed at the man's confidence with the knife, to hit her with it, just ever so barely missing her throat. He wanted to turn his attention back to Bucky, who too was loosing blood now not only from the wound in his shoulder and one in his abdomen but also a small cut on the side of his throat.

That's when the man dropped his knife. His body convulsed in agony, raw, guttural sound forcing themselves from his throat. Bucky's gaze immediately shot to Dolores, and Steve followed. Her eyes were glowing white, as was a line on her wrist. He jaw was clenched. She seemed to be looking at nothing as she slowly rose back to her knees, not bothering to remove the dirt clinging to her face. The man with the gun attempted a move towards her, but he also started screaming, and the other two followed.

Bucky flinched and Steve pressed his hands over his ears, trying desperately to block out the cries of pure agony and desperation that crashed through the woods. The primal pain in their attackers' voice struck him to the core and he wanted nothing but to stop it, stop their pain, but he was frozen, staring at the doctors haunting appearance. Her iris was completely gone, her eyes glowing silver-white, the same color as the line on her wrist. She didn't move, kneeling beside Bucky, her gaze turned to the men that were writhing under her gaze. Her face was expressionless, and both Steve and Bucky were frozen to the spot until the screaming slowly ebbed away, the last sound of agony whisping into the air with the last of the men's breath.

Silence settled over them. Bucky looked up at Steve, his expression showing the same horror at what they had just witnessed as his. The doctor blinked, her eyes returning to normal, the glow fading with the last of the men's lives. She let out a quiet groan of exhaustion and tumbled over, holding on to Bucky as she fell against him. Steve quickly picked up his shield and rushed to them.

He kneeled down in front of them, tearing away the device on Bucky's arm, watching as relief flooded his friend's expression as the pain stopped.

"What the hell was that?!" Bucky shook his head as he climbed to his feet.

"No time to explain, there might be more. Get her out of here! She can explain." Dolores nodded weakly and let herself be helped up by Bucky. She could barely stand and stumbled against Steve as Bucky gently shoved her towards him. Steve grabbed her, stabilizing her weak frame. Bucky took a step backward.

"Buck?" Bucky met his confused gaze.

"I have to get out of here. I have to go." He turned to leave, but Steve held on to his hand.

"Buck, you can stay. You're safe with us. Hydra can't get you at the tower, you'll be safe there. And I'm sure we can also fix this accord mess." Bucky shook his head and took another step backward.

"Please. You promised to take me there." Dolores' voice was weak and she almost fell as she pushed herself of Steve towards Bucky. Steve watched his friend intently as the other man's figure changed, the hostility and urgency melting away as he stepped forward to help the doctor. Dolores held on to him firmly, not just for the support it seemed, and tried to pull him in Steve's direction.

"Don't run. We can fix that. Just for a while. If..." Her breath seemed to leave her and Bucky seemed to want to hand her back to Steve, but she shook her head, refusing to let him go.

"If you don't like it, I'll make sure to get you to any country you want to. I'll give you the money I have, and you can disappear. Just one month." Her gaze was firm, and Steve almost smiled as he saw his friends' resolution crumble under her gaze. He wondered what had happened in only four days that she had such an influence over him. Bucky looked from her to him, his eyes questioning.

"Sure. Whatever she says. Now let's go. You're bleeding." Bucky frowned as he only now seemed to notice the blood staining his shirt both on his belly and his arm. He helped Dolores walked and followed Steve to the clearing where the chopper had landed.

...

Nat shot him a skeptical look as he brought the bleeding Winter Soldier and a half unconscious civilian woman to the chopper.

"Let's get back. Banner has to look at this." Steve noticed how tense Bucky was as the chopper took to the air. He had helped Dolores get to a seat and was making no move to sit down. His gaze bore into him as Steve moved towards him.

"Easy, okay." Steve gestured to the bandage in his hand.

"Just to stop the bleeding." Bucky nodded and carefully sat down on the floor beside the doctors' seat. Steve settled down beside him. Bucky wordlessly handed him his knife just as Steve wanted to look around for something to cut Bucky's shirt off the wound. He grinned and went to work, bandaging the wound as good as he could manage.

"You okay?" Bucky nodded and closed his eyes, the full extent of his exhaustion flashing across his face for a second. He probably hadn't slept in the two days since he had left the compound. Steve got up.

"Get into a seat, you'll fall out." Bucky shot him an unsure smile as Steve made his way to the seat beside Nat.

"Not too talkative is, your friend." Nat shot him a glance before concentrating on the instruments again.

"He's tried and wounded, and doesn't really trust any of us. I wouldn't expect him to be chatting away."

James' figure beside her shifted in and out of view, but Dolores could still tell how uneasy he was, hundreds of metres above the ground in a chopper flown by someone he neither knew nor trusted, to a destination unknown. He often glanced over at her, and she tried to soothe the worry in his countenance with tired smiles. Questions filled her head and one danced it's way onto her tongue, but it seemed to take forever until she could mister the strength to speak it.

"How do you feel?" Her head was slumped against the helicopter seat, her brain too heavy to be lifted, but she still managed to look at him, scan his face for his reaction. He glanced around nervously, his eyes flying over the window behind which Steve and the Black Widow sat. Dolores wanted to take the question back as she realised the cause for his unease. She wanted to hit herself for being so careless as to ask him to speak about him when they weren't alone.

"You don't have to answer, it's okay. We can talk when we're alone." James nodded but didn't leave Steve and especially the Black Widow out of his sight.

"You can relax, it's fine. That's the Black Widow. She's a friend of Steve's, she's also part of the Avengers. She's okay."

"You know her?" Dolores though about that, trying to answer the question truthfully.

"I've never met her, if you mean that. But I know a lot about her. About all of them. Nessy always knew more, but you could still call me a stalker." Dolores grinned weakly. Noticing that she had at least part of his attention she kept talking. He was tense, his look scanning the cabin as if he wanted to learn it's contents off by heart, but she could distract at least last of him.

"She is probably the one that has the most in common with you. She was a Russian spy before she switched sides. She was trained in the Black Widow Program in the Red Room. It's an extremely cruel program that's supposed to make them a perfect killing machine. She has no real super powers, but that's kind of her biggest power. People underestimate her a lot, heck, even I would probably underestimate her. Steve has it much harder in that aspect, everyone knows his skills. He has no ace to pull. Not that he could fit one in those sleeves." She giggled at her own joke and kept talking. Despite her exhaustion she was nervous, and being nervous got he talking. James eventually stopped looking around. He settled on a position from which he could monitor the whole cabin and fixed his gaze on her. His eyes boring into her might not have helped with her nerves, but as long as it distracted him, she was happy.


	13. Chapter 13

Day 4, 17:15

Dolores awoke with a jolt. She was in a bed and a man with gentle eyes hurried over to her. She recognized him, more by the way he held his body than by his face. As he moved towards her, she spotted James sitting stiffly on another bed in the room that looked to be a sort of infirmary.

"Bruce Banner." The words escaped her lips before she could think about them. An unsure smile tugged on Banner's lips.

"Yeah, exactly. It is very nice to finally meet you, Dr. Mahr, although I deeply regret the circumstances." Dolores slowly sat up with Banners help before she looked at him, surprised.

"You know me?!" Another shy smile.

"Not personally, no, but I have kept track of your work, it is very interesting. It is partially my fault that you're in this mess, I recommended you to Steve and Tony." Dolores nodded and inspected her arm. Banner followed her gaze.

"You were lucky, no stitches required. Mr. Barnes here did a good job." At the mention of James Dolores looked over to him and caught him staring at her. He had lost his shirt and had a white gauze over his shoulder and his belly, as well as a plaster on the cut on his neck. Again, Banner responded to her shift in attention.

"Yes. I'm sorry to say, I had to redo Mr. Barnes' stitches, those that were left from your work were very good. He was very lucky only his ..." A robotic voice that seemed to come from everywhere but nowhere in particular softly boomed in the room.

"Mr. Banner, when you are done, Mr. Stark requests the presence of everyone on his floor." Dolores smiled as she heard the voice that must be Friday, the new AI. An image of a beaming Nessy flashed before her mind, but only James seemed to notice the faltering of her smile. Banner smiled nervously and turned back to her.

"If you are feeling better, Doctor, I would ask you and Mr. Barnes to join me upstairs. It seems like Tony has called a meeting." Dolores tried to comfort him with a smile and looked at James. No expression showed on his face, but Dolores could sense his nervousness nevertheless.

"Yes, let us meet Mr. Stark. He is a very impatient man." Banner looked at her in surprise, but she just got up and watched James mimic her. Banner lead them to the lift and they stepped inside. Friday moved the lift to the fiftieth floor without needing another request.

"You seem to know us quite well." Banner noted. Dolores noticed how nervous he was in James' presence. James was also tense, and Dolores knew that if she touched him now, she would have felt fear, anxiety, and stress. She also noticed that the bandages had disappeared from her hands. She would need to get some gloves quickly. She swallowed her own nervousness and tried to seem confident. She was not going to show weakness in front of Stark. He was the reason she had had to learn to be strong, let him see the fruits of his work.

"My sister loves the avengers. She knows much more than I do, but I am attentive, so I couldn't help but pick a few things up here and there." She saw a knowing smile flick past James' lips at her mention of her attentiveness, but it vanished quickly. The lift came to a halt and the door opened to reveal a spacious hallway with opaque glass walls and doors leading to several office rooms. One of the doors was wide ajar and Banner lead them to it. Dolores took in the scene before her. All the Avengers assembled, all eyes trained on the man behind her. She tried to move in front of him as subtly as possible, feeling the unease that came with so many eyes on him. They were all here. The Black Widow, the Hulk, Hawkeye, Captain America, the Scarlet Witch, Vision, the Falcon, and, of course, the Iron Man. Stark. Dolores found that she couldn't move her gaze from him, but he ignored her in favor of the man behind her.

"Please, come in. We need to discuss a few things." Dolores' gaze brushed the Black Widow for a moment. The woman motioned to the two empty seats at the head of the table and realizing the awkwardness that would ensue if she just kept standing in the doorway, Dolores moved towards the seats and sat down. She took a shaky breath. Confidence. She'd show no weakness for Stark. She had left the seat closest to the exit for James, who sat down beside her. Every muscle in his body was tense, every movement that of a threatened predator about to lash out to flee. Normally she would have placed a hand on his arm for reassurance, but she kept her skin to herself. Banner spoke next.

"Okay, so for those who've been on missions recently, this is Doctor Dolores Mahr, and you all know James Barnes." James tensed at the comment if that was ever possible. Dolores felt everything in him screaming to get out, run to some secluded location, away from people whom he couldn't control. Dolores was quite amazed at how calm his exterior seemed and how willing he was to participate in this. She wondered what the hell kept him here. He had just recently earned back control over his life after seventy years of not having any control at all. It astonished her how willing he was to give up control over the situation. She wondered why, when Banner kept speaking.

"Now, we all know of the incidents at the compound and why they are here now..."

"No we don't," Wilson interrupted. James' gaze shot to him, another man with the power to speak that he now had to keep his eyes on. Dolores almost felt sorry for him, if she hadn't known that this was his way of staying on top of everything.

"The swat team assigned to protect me and keep James in the cell was Hydra. They injected him with a new serum. After that didn't work, they aimed to kill him and tried it on me. The underestimated him, James got us out and we've been followed and shot at by them ever since," Dolores interrupted as she saw Banner open his mouth. She liked him, out of the whole team he was her favorite 'till now, but he was the soothing voice in the storm, and with all the tension in the room, his calm way was costing her her patience. Wilson nodded in acknowledgment, Steve, Stark, and Banner all looked at her somewhat surprised, and the other two women smiled quietly at each other. Steve was the first to notice the addition to the story.

"Serum?"

"We both have wounds that seem to stem from careless needle injections, further medical examinations might tell me more. I'm guessing that's what caused James' headache on the first day. The serum seems to have been derived from the Maximoff twin treatment and clashed with the Super-Soldier serum. Then they used it on me, I passed out, and James got us out. That's why they weren't especially careful when aiming at him, resulting in the shot to the abdomen and the cut on his throat." James squirmed into his seat as the eyes of the team wandered over his body at her explanation. Dolores sensed the awe of the group at her deduction and bit back a sassy comment. Confident, not bitchy. She didn't know what they wanted from her, she wouldn't want to piss them off before she knew.

Banner glanced over at Steve, who passed the look on to Stark. Who shook his head.

"No. NO! We're not having this discussion again. The brainwashed Hydra Assassin is not staying in MY tower!"

"Come on, Tony! He'd be safe from Hydra here, he'd be fine. Also, Dolores could continue her treatment here, in safety, without having to worry about any Hydra agents," Steve argued, backed up by Banners nodding.

"Yeah, sure, Hydras two most wanted in my house, hell no."

"I could also see if I can help. I have tricked minds before, I might get Hydra out of his." Maximoff leaned into the table, the three now cornering Stark in his corner. He looked around.

"Okay, fine, the Assassin can stay in the cellar, we have cells there. But the Doc's gotta go. Or we'll have Hydra bursting in here by next week."

"Tomorrow," Jame corrected. It was the first time he spoke.

"Exactly," Stark ignored the spoke in tension that had occurred after James' words.

"That is not your decision to make." Dolores' voice sounded eerily quiet after the somewhat heated argument. Again, Stark ignored the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"My tower, my rules." Dolores forced a soft smile on her lips and her voice to remain gentle.

"Mr. Stark, you have ruined most of my life, I am afraid I must object you taking the one thing that has gone into rebuilding it." Now even Stark had fallen into stunned silence. Everyone, including James, was staring at her, proving to her how successful she had been in keeping her files clean. It was Romanoff who broke the silence.

"Well, since Barnes gets to stay and the Doctor won't leave, this meeting is over, isn't it? Barnes can stay on Steve's floor and the Doctor can share with Wanda and me." Stark seemed to slowly recover from his stunned silence, but Wilson interrupted him before he could draw another breath to argue Romanoff's decision.

"Great. We order Pizza now?" Romanoff nodded in agreement and got up to leave. Wilson, Maximoff, Banner and Barton followed, leaving only Stark, Steve and Vision with them in the room. Steve turned to Dolores.

"Dolores, what do you mean with..."

"I have not made the effort to keep this from my files to tell you now, Steve. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but all I can tell you is that Mr. Stark owes me a favor beyond an autograph. I have enjoyed the work with James up to now, and I hope to continue it, away from Hydra's, or Mr. Stark's influence." Steve nodded. Dolores could see how he pushed away the questions racing in his mind to put up as honest a smile as he could manage.

"We all have our secrets, it's only fair you keep yours. I'm happy to have you staying with us." He got up and squeezed her shoulder as he left. Vision stood up.

"Seeing that Mr. Stark still seems stunned at another person wielding rhetoric, I would offer myself to show you your rooms." Dolores smiled and got up. James again mimicked her.

"Thank you, Vision." The former AI halted for a moment, wondering how she knew him, then he led the way out of the office, leaving a baffled Stark behind. Proud of her day's work, Dolores followed, James trailing behind.

...

"The woman of the hour," Romanoff cheered as Dolores left Vision alone in the lift. They had dropped off James at Steve's floor first and the way he had looked back at her, almost seeming unwilling to leave her side, still clung to her. Seeing the two women's smiled caused her to push those thoughts aside and return the smile.

"I haven't seen Tony that baffled since he learned I was not a professional secretary," the redhead grinned and walked towards her with an outstretched hand.

"I am Natasha Romanoff, call me Nat. The couch potato behind me is Wanda." Dolores smiled, unsure what to do with the hand. She decided just to stick to the truth, figuring it would come out soon enough anyway.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I won't touch you for now. Remember what I said about the serum?" Nat dropped her head and nodded, the smile went from her face.

"Yeah, how did you figure it was a derivative from the Maximoff treatment?"

"I'm guessing it's a mixture of the Super-Soldier serum and the Maximoff treatment. Like the serum, it enhanced abilities I already had, but like the treatment, beyond the bounds of what's physically possible." Dolores drew a shaky breath and subconsciously tugged her sleeves down her arms.

"I've always been good at reading people, it's part of what makes me a good psychologist. Now with the serum, I can feel exactly what you are feeling if I make skin contact. Plus some other things. And I wouldn't want to invade your privacy like that on our first day," Dolores closed with an apologetic smile.

"I like her, she's nice," Wanda said from the couch in the living area. "I'm glad we get to keep her around." Nat grinned and lead Dolores to the couch, dropping down beside Wanda. Dolores took a seat on one of the armchairs and took a look around. Right now they were in a huge open room that served as kitchen, dining room and living area in one. To the left of the elevator a hallway branched off, Dolores figured that's where the bedrooms would be. Wanda pulled her legs under her and looked at Dolores with curiosity.

"So, what else is new?"

"Well, the touch thing, I seem generally more susceptible to others' emotions, and I can make others die from pain if I want them to." Stunned silence.

"Well, one of those things is not like the others," Nat mused. Her phone interrupted the silence.

"Clint's asking what kind of Pizza you like."

"Anything without mushrooms."

"Spawns of Satan," Wanda agreed as Nat typed away furiously on the display.

"Do you think I can go back and get some of my things. I left a present for my sister at the compound, I still have to wrap that. And my watercolors." Wanda laughed.

"You have been injected by a mystery serum by Hydra, have weird powers, have been shot at and just narrowly escaped death, and you're worried about your sisters birthday present?!"

"I managed to get Captain America to sign it." Wanda curled up laughing at her play-scowl.

"You're cute, I like you."

"You do know that Steve lives one floor up. You can get him to write a letter to your sister," Nat grinned. Dolores also couldn't help but giggle at her comment.

"Yeah, I'll have him do that. I will have to quit my job though. My boss will be heartbroken."

"Then don't call," Nat shrugged.

"The way it's right now, you're dead."

"I am shocked at how much I like that idea. I might even do that. Then he won't move to New York." Nat pulled a face.

"Geez, that bad?!" Dolores nodded.

"He's nice and all, but I won't miss him. And if I don't go back to ma apartment, none of you will get to see how much of a creep I am."

"Creep?" Wanda raised an eyebrow.

"My sister loves the Avengers. It started with Steve and kind of escalated from there. She owns every book ever published about one of you, and she's not the kind to be careful with spoilers. I haven't read most of them, but I still know most of the stuff by heart." Wanda blushed but Nat smiled.

"She sounds cute, your sister. I hope we get to meet her sometime." Dolores smiled and looked down at the ring on the thumb of her left hand, playing with the stone in it.

"Yeah, she is. She'd love to meet you." Before Nat could continue on that, the elevator doors open, and Barton held the doors open.

"Pizza on Steve's floor." Wanda and Nat jumped up, Dolores following. They rode the lift one floor higher where the rest was already wolfing down the pizza. Dolores looked for James and found him sitting slightly to the side beside Steve. Well, more behind than beside. Dolores smiled at how he used Steve as a barrier between him and the chaos unfolding in the living area. Dolores grabbed one of the pizza boxes and sat down beside him. He seemed a little surprised at her choice of seat, but not unhappy about it.

"How are you doing. This doesn't really seem like your kind of party," she smiled.

"It's a lot of people."

"True. But it's only for now. Then you'll be alone with Steve. Give me a day or so to figure out if we can get a room for something like sessions. That is if you still want that. No need to answer now, just think about it. I think being around someone you know, that you remember, will help, but I think talking to me might also help, not with remembering, but with the other things Hydra did. Especially now." James moved slightly away from her and Dolores wondered at the pang of pain that followed that move.

"Don't worry, I'll still not do anything you don't want me to. But even just like that, I can understand you even better now. Not just you, all of them. It's nothing I can really do about that. So if you're uncomfortable with me, we don't have to continue." James handed her a slice of pizza and Dolores saw it as a sign to shut up. She grinned and dug in. They ate in silence for a while, making their way through half the family sized Pizza. Dolores hadn't noticed just how hungry she was, but it made sense, she hadn't eaten in almost two days.

"Did you mean what you said to Stark?" James' sudden initiative caused her to hesitate before she picked up another slice.

"That I enjoy working with you? Yeah."

"Why?"

"I guess because it's difficult. You have suffered much worse than my usual patients, you're nothing I already know. Also, from what I have learned, you are a very nice man." James coughed.

"Nice? Nobody had ever called me nice." Dolores smiled.

"Of course not. Your soul is shattered, a pile of shards. People don't really like those that hurt them, whether that is on purpose or not."

"And you?" Dolores pinned the smile to her face, willing it not to come down.

"Scar tissue is harder to cut, you of all should know that. And you are hurting yourself the most. And I have the unfortunate issue that I can not only see that but that I feel it too. Nobody likes pain, and I know how to help, therefore it's my responsibility. It was my responsibility to all the broken people before you, you are not any different." James laughed quietly at that. Dolores enjoyed the sound and smiled with him. His laugh was quiet as if he hadn't intended for her to hear it. It was a beautiful sound and Dolores listened closely to be able to keep it as a treasured little gem in her collection.


	14. Chapter 14

Day 5, 0:04

 _You're not any different._ The words rang in his skull, even hours after she had said them, so simply as if they were the truth. The pizza had longed been devoured and only Steve, the young girl and the red skinned one were still there. Stark had excused himself first, seeming eager to get out of there. Bucky observed the small glint of pride in the doctor's eyes and once more wondered what had happened to her that she had such an impact on Stark with so little words. But it was not his position to ask her.

It had become quieter after everyone had left, and Bucky enjoyed it as the conversation turned to the doctor's new skills, the other four people seemingly forgetting him as he leaned into a shadow.

"So how does this emotion thing work?" Wanda asked to rekindle the conversation. Dolores had kept her attention on James, trying to pick out whether he was uncomfortable so she might get him to a more quiet location, but he seemed fine, almost relaxed even. He had settled on a wall slightly away from everyone where the light didn't reach. She wondered whether he had picked out this spot on purpose or sticking to shadows came naturally to him.

She turned her attention to Wanda and smiled while trying to find the words to explain what had happened to her.

"I've always been good at picking up how people felt and other things about them. It helped a lot with Nessy, she wasn't the one to talk about her problems. James here can explain that best, I freaked him out quite a bit I think. I try to refrain from doing it the first time I meet people, it's impolite to invade someone's privacy like that, but I can only do that for a few hours. After that, it comes naturally. And I guess the serum just picked up on that and enhanced it. Only with touch though. So don't worry, I won't know your deepest secrets unless you give me your hands. I'll have to get gloves for that," she murmured as she looked down on the unprotected skin. Wanda furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Like how does that work? Do it on me, without touching, that one. I can't imagine that." Dolores smiled and tried to summarize all she had subconsciously picked up about the younger woman throughout the evening. She hesitated at first, but her voice became steadily more confident as she kept talking.

"You grew up with your brother. Your parents were around, but your brother was your family. He was part of who you were. He still is, you try to hold on to that, to every part you think he influenced so that he can't leave you. You want to be proud of your powers, you want to love them, see the beauty, but you've seen them used for too much bad, have seen them cause too much harm. You think restraining them, restraining yourself is the way to go, even though all you want to do is paint the sky red and embrace your magic, no matter what anybody thinks. But you're still afraid of that, what others, your friends, your brother might think. You want to not care about them, but you fear the dangers of being alone." Seeing the wide eyes and look of shock in Wanda's face Dolores let her voice trail off. Steve and Wanda were staring at her, Vision was staring as surprised as a sentient AI could and James had a subtle smile playing around his lips.

"I'm sorry. Once I get started I just keep rambling." Dolores lowered her gaze back to her hands. Wanda seemed to find her voice first.

"And... and how could you tell? Without mind reading?"

"Your eyeliner. The way you dress. How you keep your head low and you voice down when you're burning to say so much." Baffled, Wanda fell back into her chair. It was Vision who spoke next.

"Then, what is the difference between your inductive skills and you serum-induced powers?"

"The induction can only tell me what's on the surface, maybe a few stabs at a person's past. When I now touch people I can get a complete picture of the momentary emotional state." Steve sat up and stretched out his hand.

"Okay, try me." Dolores looked up at him in surprise.

"You sure?" He just shrugged his shoulders.

"Sure. I have nothing to hide, and I really want to see what you can do." Dolores thought about refusing, but then she shifted over to him with an evil smile, before she rested her hand on his arm.

"Okay. Out loud?"

"Sure."

"Pull away whenever." At Steve's nod, she closed her eyes and pulled away the barrier that she had subconsciously already constructed to keep the strange emotions at bay.

"You're content. This is your idea of a perfect evening. You've had too much pizza, but you love it. You're... a bit afraid of what's to come, of the accords, but you can see Tony's reasoning, and you're still a team, that's what matters to you. The biggest thorn has been removed, Bucky's here, he's safe with you, away from people you don't know trying to hurt him. You're worried a bit about how he's changed, what that means to your friendship. You know he remembers you, you just don't know what that makes you. But you're sure you'll figure it out. You are worried about the storm coming, but you have already built up your resolve that you'll keep him by your side, come hell and high water. You've followed him to war, you won't leave him now when the whole world seemed to want to tear you apart. But that's all subconscious. Right now, you're happy. And amazed, astonished, a little spooked and afraid." She opened her eyes and Steve's eyes reflected exactly what she had just said. Wanda's laugh tore them out of it and Dolores self-consciously pulled back her hand.

"You should to that to Tony! That look on his face!" She broke down laughing, Vision smiling with her, keeping her from falling off the couch. Dolores smiled with her, noting the look that passed between James and Steve. Then a yawn forced itself from her mouth and she rubbed her face.

"I'll go down, I'm dead." She unfolded her limbs and rose to her feet. She found Steve's gaze.

"Is it okay if I drop by tomorrow sometime after ten? I want to get some stuff sorted, but my brain won't be doing shit tonight." Steve nodded.

"Sure. Just ask Friday, she'll tell you if we're up." Dolores nodded and headed to the elevator. She passed the button and went into the staircase.

Only when the door had fallen close behind her did she let the anxiety that had racked her core for the last hour show on her face. She stumbled down the first flight and slid down the railing in a corner letting her breathing assume the frantic speed it had begged her to go to for what had seemed like forever. In a hundred story building the staircase was the least used room. And she hadn't wanted the others to see her in such a vulnerable unstable state. She didn't need them questioning her confidence. Especially not James. How could he trust her if he learned that she wasn't half as stable and reliable as he believed her to be?

As the events of the day finally caught up to her, sobs escaped her lungs, her breathing harshly contracting, allowing even less oxygen to enter her lungs.

She had hurt people. On purpose. She had looked at the soldier stepping on Nessy's case and had wanted to hurt him. She wanted him to hurt, to feel so much pain that he would crumble to dust. And he had. The man had died from the pain. As had the four others. When she had seen the blood on the soldier's blade, had seen how close he had come to killing James, she had been furious. Fire had risen from her soul and she had wanted to hurt the man. In the blood she had seen all the pain Hydra had caused James and she had been so angry at having allowed them to cause him more, she wanted the soldier to feel all of it, feel the suffering he was the source of. She hadn't meant to kill him, but she hadn't stopped, hadn't regretted his soul fading from his eyes. She looked at her hands, those creepy eerie hands that could dig themselves into people's souls and brains and could see the blood of five men dripping from them. Five souls. Five thinking minds, five little micro verses that could now never be replaced. And at her hands. She, a doctor, had taken lives, willingly. She hadn't been unable to save them, she had torn them from their bodies, watching their souls fade in her hands. A rough cry broke loose from her throat. She clasped her hands over her mouth to muffle her cries as her body writhed under the tears and sobs that racked her body.

Bucky stepped into the staircase behind the elevator. Steve had asked him to go, after the voice without body had brought the message from the young one and the redhead that the doctor wasn't there. Bucky had been relieved after the red skinned one had left through the wall that he would finally get to be alone again when the voice had interrupted the silence. Steve had asked him to go, had said something about the doctor trusting him the most. Bucky though that was stupid. The doctor might think it was interesting to work with him, pick him apart, even if she meant well, but that didn't mean she trusted him by a long shot. But it meant he got a few minutes alone, and as those moments had become rare since Bucharest, he had learned to cherish them all the more.

He walked down the stairs slowly, making no sound, as usual, hoping he might just pass her by. His mind raced ahead, dreaming how he might just end up in front of the back door of the tower. How he might walk through and vanish, unobstructed, unnoticed, like the ghost he was so much better at being. Leave all those people he couldn't trust behind, back to relying on the one person he could trust, himself.

Suddenly his body tensed, the knife in his hands before he could recognize the small heap of a human leaning against the railing. When he recognized the doctor, his body relaxed, his soul tensed. She was crying. He had seen her cry, but never like this, and now he stalled, unsure how to react. His mind was still caught up in his little fantasy, craving the solitude of a forest or a desert, but his soul was tugging at him, a small voice in the back of his mind, telling him to stay. She noticed him standing there and her eyes flickered to the knife that was still in his hand.

"You're leaving?" Her voice was raw from sobbing and had something indescribably soft and rough about it. It struck him, how she didn't see him with a knife as a threat. Her eyes weren't trained on the weapon, on the threat, but on his face, to catch every stirr of his muscles.

"I... No. Steve wanted me to look for you. The voice said you weren't downstairs, so he was worried." He said nothing of the thoughts he had toyed with just moments before. She tried a shattered rugged smile, but her quelled eyes and red nose belied her efforts.

"I'm fine. Go to bed, you're safe here, you need the sleep. Don't worry about me. I'll be down in a second, I'm fine." He knew she was lying, even he got that, but he didn't know how to respond. But he remembered how soothing her touch had been to him. He couldn't remember exactly through the blur of pain, but the fact that he had slept proved that her touched had helped. He forced himself to move, his heart leading his body against its instincts to sit down beside her. There was a good distance between them, his fighting instincts still screaming at him to put more space between him and the enemy. But he held his ground, even as he felt her eyes burning into his skull.

Eventually, she looked back down on her hands. Her breathing evened out and she tried to wipe the tears from her face.

"You really don't have to be here. I'm fine. I'm safe here, they can watch out for me. And I always wanted to learn how to handle knives, I can learn that now. I'm sorry for dragging you here. That's not my call to make. I won't stop you. I mean, I'll miss you, even if it's been only four days, but I won't stop you."

Bucky knew she wasn't just talking about his sitting here with her. He looked at her, half amazed, half confused. How could she have perceived the last few days as positive? He had upheaved her life, had disrupted it, nothing was like before. How could she like that?

"Why are you here?" The question startled him out of his thoughts.

"Steve told..."

"Yes, yes, Steve told you to check on me. But why are you still here? You must be crawling to get out of here, away from me. You don't trust me, why are you so nice to me?" Nice? He wasn't being nice, what did that even mean? He had no idea why he was here, why he was forcing himself to sit here. No. Part of him knew. He tried to listen to his mind like he had learned to listen for memories like faint whispers brought by the wind.

"Steve is upstairs. He is nice, my friend, but here is better. With you, I don't have to talk." She smiled at that, quietly into her messy hair. She had a nice smile. It had him forgetting some of his anxiety at the closed room, the height, the closeness to another human, the proximity of so many people he couldn't trust. Her smile had him forgetting some of that.

"That's nice. I'm glad you're here. It helped. Thank you." Thank you. The words struck something inside of him, and he paused, trying to capture and understand that feeling.

"But still. Do you want to go? I won't make you stay." Her eyes were serious and she didn't look away. He looked down at his legs out in front of him, the knife was hidden back in his boot, and thought about that. Did he want to leave? He was constantly on edge, he preferred being alone, but he could be alone here too. And Dot was right, she was safe here. He had followed Steve and his team throughout his years in Romania, he knew what they were capable of. He could be safe here too. They could protect him, and he wouldn't have to be on the run all the time. He liked relying only on himself, it was the one thing he was good at, but just for the time being, he could stay. Collect his memories, figure out his pain, heal. Then he could still vanish. But he knew that cold logic wasn't what kept him here, kept him from following down the stairs.

"I will stay until the wounds are healed." It was one part of the truth, a truth he couldn't quite grasp and understand yet. The doctor nodded.

"That's a good idea. Then you can plan your next moves in peace. Find a good place to disappear. Would you have to learn a new language? I'd love a new language, heck, I'd learn that with you." Taking her sudden avalanche of words as proof that she really was better he got up, his body celebrating his eventual compliance, but only until he stood there and stretched out his metal arm to help her up. Surprised she looked first at the metal, then at her own hands. She smiled another one of those small smiles that seemed to come so naturally to her and took his hand. He helped her up and followed her quietly down the final flights of stairs to the floor she was sharing with the young one and the redhead. He brought her to her room and when he wanted to turn and leave, she stopped him by his metal hand.

"I... would it be okay with you to stay a few more minutes? I... I want to check Nessy's case for dirt, but I don't want to do that alone. I'm weird about it, I know. It's stupid to ask, you must be dead tired. Go back up, I'm fine." Bucky interrupted her ramblings by pushing open the door and holding it there for her. She smiled and grew slightly red around her cheeks before she slipped past his arm into her dark room. He followed, closing the door.

Despite the room only being hers for a few hours, it had something comforting about it. It still was impersonal and Dolores bet that James' room looked just like hers, but that would change. It still seemed surreal to her that this was to be her new home, like a dream she expected to fade and wake up from every second. But she knew that would settle with time. She stepped into the room to the table on which her backpack and the still bandage covered metal case was lying. She picked up the case and turned on the bedside lamp as she settled down against the headboard, the case in her lap. James followed her awkwardly, probably already regretting he had agreed to this. He sat down on the opposite side of the bed, as far away from her as he could. Still, he was here. And that helped a lot. Knowing she wasn't all alone.

For a while she just sat there, staring at the case, before she could force herself to touch it.

"I've never opened it. Weird right?" Her fingers brushed the cool metal, almost expecting to feel a rush of emotions. But it was only metal. Her fingers moved to the small nub that held it closed. Her heart was racing for some reason and her hands trembled and suddenly she was too weak to pry the case open.

She flung the case from her so that it landed on the bed and hid her rapid breathing behind her hands.

"Can you do it? Just check if there's any dirt in there and if everything's okay." She could feel his questioning stare, but he didn't say anything, whether that was because he didn't know what to say or because he was watching her like a wounded unpredictable tiger, she couldn't tell, her own emotional turmoil deafening her senses. She heard the case click open, her ears picking up every sound, from the shuffling of the paper to her own heartbeat. She even though she heard James' soft breathing, but that was probably only a product of her imagination.

Eventually, a soft sound tore her out of her panicked state. James and flung the metal case back on the bed, more careful than she had.

"It's all clean. The silver pan was popped out, but nothing's broken." His voice was soft and soothing as if he was talking to a scared animal. Dolores raised her head and tried a smile. It worked somewhat and she grabbed the case to put it on the nightstand.

"You should sleep." The concern in his voice had her heart melting and the smile came much easier this time. She nodded. She had been awake for almost 24 hours and her sleep the nights before hadn't been too well either. As her mind finally caught up to her body, the exhaustion hit her full force.

"Yeah. I will," she yawned. Her tired mind drifted to her evening routine, and once more the strangeness of her situation hit her. She had nothing to change into. They probably had toothbrushes here, but she would check up on that tomorrow. Her body was unwilling to make another move, and her mind took sides with it.

"You don't have to stay here. You can go back up to Steve and sleep. It's safe here." She didn't see whether he listened to her as her eyes fell shut. Her limbs were lead and soon her mind stopped struggling and drifted into unconsciousness.


	15. Chapter 15

Day 5, 12:28

Dolores awoke without a sense of time. Friday had kept the shutters of the windows closed while she slept, so she had no idea what time it was. Without opening her eyes, Dolores felt for her phone and took a glance at the time, noting the low battery. 12:29. She grounded and rolled onto her back. She'd never been good at waking up, but she usually awoke earlier than 10:00. Only when she pushed herself to a sitting position did she notice James still in the same position she could remember him in last.

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Some," he lied. Dolores didn't call him out on it and dragged herself off the bed. Her limbs flung around uncoordinated but she somehow made it to a stable standing position without disgracing herself completely. Thanks to Nessy, she k we how the house AI worked pretty well. At least when Jarvis had still been around, but she was sure that Friday wasn't all that different. Never change a running system.

"Friday?" The voice answered, again seeming to come from everywhere at once.

"Yes, Dr. Mahr?"

"Where can I get a fresh set of clothes for me and James, as well as a shower? Also, is Steve already up?"

"Basic clothing and toiletries have been provided for both you and Mr. Barnes in your respective rooms. Further, Mr. Stark will offer you a budget on which to replace the things you have lost due to your change in location. Mr. Rogers is awake and has asked for Mr. Barnes to head upstairs as soon as possible. He seemed rather agitated." Dolores nodded and wondered whether the AI could note that.

"Thank you Friday," she added for good measure.

"My pleasure, Dr. Mahr." Dolores turned back to James who was trying to find the source of the voice.

"That's Friday. Stark programmed it, it runs the house pretty much. You can ask it for anything and it'll help you as much as possible."

"I don't like it," James muttered, staring at the ceiling as if Friday might come out and eat him alive.

"Then don't use it. It's a tool, it won't take it personally. Now, how about you get yourself upstairs to see what Steve is fussing about, and I will show and change and meet you upstairs then. That is if you want that. I want to ask Steve a few things so I'll be there, no obligation to talk to me." James nodded and stood up much more graceful than another night without sleep would have suggested. Dolores waited until he had left before she pulled her clothes from her. Wearing them for a two days hike hadn't helped and they were torn and cut and full of blood. In her underwear, she took in the full closet and questioned Stark's understanding of the word basic. She pulled out a black long-armed shirt and discarded the jeans for a pair of cargo pants. She had always wanted a pair of those. She loved jackets and hoodies, but nothing went over a pair of pants with six huge pockets. She knew they weren't stylish, but she had already accepted that she would never make such a good figure as Nat or Wanda or let alone Pepper. And she had always picked backpacks over handbags and pocketknives over lipstick, so she was just being true to herself. She pulled out some simple underwear that would fit her and hauled the stack of clothes into the bathroom.

Dolores gasped. She had never been in such a big bathroom. One whole wall was a window to the city, a huge bathtub lining the glass. The shower was as big as her old bathroom had been and the mirror beside the sink was huge. She couldn't help but let a quiet wow escape her lips. As soon as she got the time, she'd have to schedule a five hour audio book session in here. But not now. She wanted to talk to Steve. She wanted to ask him how things were run around here, wanted a routine to stick to. Just because she had finally broken free from the decaying life that had held her before didn't mean she could slack off now. She knew herself enough to want to avoid having full free days. She'd go insane after a week. She just had to ask if there was already anything planned for her or of she'd have to patch up her own thing.

With those thoughts she stepped into the shower. The scolding hot water hitting her had her utter a sigh of relief. All the dirt and tears and tension from the last two days was washed away. She watched it disappear into the drain and for a moment toyed with the thought of considering the madness of her current situation, but she let that drop. If she didn't think about her situation, she wouldn't see how insane she was to be here. And for the moment she was happy being swept away by the course of events.

Steve was nervous. It was easy to tell, from his shivering leg that danced up and down at incredible speeds, defying his bodies overall calm. Also from the way his look shot over to him as soon as Bucky stepped out of the elevator.

"You okay?" Bucky nodded, a bit taken aback. That was not the question he had expected.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, I was kinda worried when you didn't come back last night. Friday said you were in the Dolores' room. So I thought..." Another headache. That was the only logical reason why he would spend the night in her room.

"No, I'm fine. I..." Yes, why had he stayed in her room? He had been glad when she had fallen asleep before she could shoo him out. Her steady breathing had calmed him down, it made staying awake even somewhat difficult. Thankfully, Steve jumped to conclusions before Bucky could fail to conjure a sufficient reason as to why he had disappeared for the night.

"Don't worry, I get it. You've gotten used to her, it's nice. Though you don't have to protect her here. This tower is about one of the safest places in the world, definitely in New York." Bucky nodded and tried one of those smiles Dot seemed to have for every situation. It felt weird and he dropped it.

"Now, how about breakfast?" Bucky shrugged and followed Steve over to the kitchen area.

"Sure." He wasn't hungry, his body was used to running without food for up to two weeks, but it gave him something to do and concentrate on, other than the knowledge that Dot would be around soon. He had resolved to call her Dot, at least in his mind. The nickname had something familiar about it, something that felt like happy memories. It suited the comforting feeling he had around her much more than the doctor, a word he feared probably more than anything else.

When Dolores stepped out of the elevator, James was wolfing down some toast with scrambled eggs like it was the last meal he was going to get. It was something she had also noticed last night. He ate quickly and as much as he could, even now when he seemed generally relaxed, although he was watching her the moment she stepped out of the elevator.

"Ah, Dolores. Want some as well?" Steve motioned to the pan he was cleaning.

"Sure, if you don't mind. Less work for me." Steve chuckled quietly and turned back to the pan, making more eggs.

"So, you wanted to ask me something?" Dolores pulled up a chair, separating herself from the table James was eating at to give him some space.

"Jap. Seeing as I'll be staying here, I wanted to ask if there are rules to stick to or any sort of routine you want me part of. I need stuff to do or I'll go crazy, so I wanted to see if you had stuff planned, or if I get to make some up."

"Rules not really no. We have a little thing set up that we ask Friday before we walk in on each other, but otherwise nothing, no. Tony will block you from any stuff he doesn't want you to touch, and in case you're unsure, ask Friday. And in terms of routine, no, neither really. We generally have dinner together to stay caught up, but that's no law and Tony misses it in his lab often enough. There's a training floor to keep fit between missions, in case you need that kind of stuff. Bucky, you might look into it though. Tony has a huge weapon array set up on a shooting range, it's pretty sweet. We have missions occasionally, now from the UN, but if you don't want to be part of that, you don't have to, it's your call. Otherwise, you can pretty much do what you want." Dolores nodded and took the plate he was handing her. She set it on the far corner of the table. James was done with his food, but she didn't want to get too close to him.

"Okay, I'll set myself up. Friday mentioned something about a replacement budget." Steve nodded and fumbled around in his pockets until he managed to pull out a small card.

"Yes, Tony asked me to give you this. Whatever is on there is yours. Though I don't think it's a good idea going out shopping in New York when you've just barely survived a Hydra kidnapping." Dolores grinned and shoveled more eggs into her mouth. Apparently, Steve had used his spare time to brush up his cooking skills, the eggs were about the best Dolores had ever had.

"Makes sense. Well, thank god for the internet then." She turned to James who offered her a small confused smile.

"Seeing you probably have the same loose schedule as I have, do you want fixed sessions or just drop by whenever? I personally think fixed is better. Again, they'll take as long as they take, but having a fixed time to look forward and prepare for is always better in my experience." James shrugged and Steve tried his hardest to be invisible washing up.

"Whatever," James mumbled. Dolores smiled to herself. She knew talking to anyone when more people were around was strange for him, as it meant offering up more than he could control to the person uninvolved, and her open question had partially been a test to see how comfortable he was with both her and Steve. He still didn't like it, but he accepted it, forced himself to sit still here instead of being along. Which was a pretty big step.

"Sweet. Then how about six. Evening six, I won't get up that early." James nodded and a small smile played around the corners of his mouth. Satisfied with her achievement for the morning, Dolores got up and handed Steve the empty plate as he was just putting his and James' in the dishwasher. Then she made her way to the training floor. She hadn't been kidding when she had said she wanted to learn how to handle knives. And she couldn't just sit around and think, she had to do something else. So she might as well start practicing.

...

An hour later, James found her sitting on the floor of a big room on the training room. The room housed a boxing ring, as well as several punching bags and an array of mats. Dolores had pulled one to a wall on which she had Friday display a selection of things she wanted to buy with the money Stark had given her. Scattered around her on the floor were several knives, one of which she was caressing absentmindedly with her fingers. When she noticed James behind her, she moved to one edge of the map, giving him space to sit down with her. To her astonishment, he did, crossing his legs beneath him while keeping his eyes fixed on the wall ahead.

"That's the stuff I'm definitely ordering," Dolores explained, following James' eyes. On the list was a rather expensive watercolor case, along with two sets of brushes and a whole stack of heavy watercolor paper. She had also gotten a new medical kit like the one in her backpack, as well as three different sets of gloves and two more cargo pants. She had discovered that she wouldn't need to stock up on Stark's supply of black shirts or underwear, as there was more of that in the closet than she could probably wear. Next to the list, several different clothing items were displayed, as well as a few other art supplies.

"What do you think of that Jacket?" Dolores pointed at a leather jacket. Her comment made Friday pull the picture larger so that Dolores could once more muster the different small pockets.

"I was thinking that it would at least withstand some damage and weather. I could always hide essentials in the pockets, anything big would go in the pants anyways, so the pockets don't have to be that big. Also, it would have me looking more badass, so fewer people would touch me or get too close."

"You think very practically," James noticed, watching her inspect the jacket. Dolores smiled.

"Yeah. Nessy's always been the stylish one. She is beautiful, so I never bothered competing with her on that, seeing I never stood a chance anyway." She looked at the jacket for a while longer, then brushed the picture to the side, putting it on the list. Her attention turned to the last item she was debating to get.

"Those are the colors in Nessy's case. If I buy them, I won't have to use hers." She wouldn't have to open it. James seemed to have read her thoughts.

"Why don't you want to open the case?" His words were slow, crept quietly off his tongue as if they weren't quite sure whether they were allowed to stand there. Dolores froze, wondering how much of the truth she wanted to tell. She wasn't going to lie to him, something in her forbade that, but she didn't want to spill the whole truth over him. It would chase him away. Noticing she wasn't as strong as he thought. And for some reason her heart would not explain to her brain, she didn't want to chase him off like she had with so many other men.

"Nessy and I... we didn't separate on the best of terms. I know there's a message inside of the case, the whole case is a message. And I don't think I'm ready to know what it is." James nodded and looked back at the wall as if he had understood any of what she had said.

"Then don't buy it. I don't think she'd want you ignoring her attempt to communicate or just move past it." Dolores smiled against the tears that were welling up inside of her. Of course. Nessy would hate her if she'd just move on past her message, the one she had put so much effort into.

"Yeah, you're right. That would be mean. Friday, forget the last one. I'm done, order the rest to my room. Is the upload ready?" The images on the wall disappeared.

"Upload complete. Enjoy your workout, Dr. Mahr."

"Thanks, Friday." Dolores got up.

"I've always wanted to learn how to handle knives. But that takes practice. But I'll also need to learn how to fight a bit, or all knives in the world will be useless. I did some martial arts as a kid, but that was ages ago and I hated it." She walked over to the case in which Friday had told her a robot used for training was. Stark had built it to be as close to the human physiology as he could get it. She had asked Friday to upload Wing Tsun onto its drives so that she could learn it once more.

"I get the thinking behind it now though. And I think it would be easiest for me. It's pretty nice actually, more about defense and evasion than attack. I'm not strong like you or Nat, I never will be, but that is the next best thing." James had also stood up and was now slowly following her to the case.

"Want to stay and watch? Would be quite amusing for you, I think, seeing me get my ass kicked." But James shook his head.

"No. I'll be on the shooting range." Dolores nodded and smiled up at him. She found herself doing that more and more often, now that he would smile back half the time. His smiles weren't real smiles, just small remnants of grins long lost brushing his lips with soft feathers. But they were sweet nonetheless.

"Okay. I'll make sure to pick you up for dinner." At that he turned and left, seemingly fleeing her presence. She shook those thoughts out of her head and turned back to the case. She pushed the green button on the pad and the case opened.

...

By the time Friday announced that Wanda and Vision had made Hawaii toasts downstairs, Dolores had several bruises and an open cut on her shoulder from falling awkwardly against the boxing ring. The robot had immediately offered to call medical assistance, but the cut wasn't deep, she would take care of it later. She had kept training, trying to keep concentration while blending out the soft pain. She knew she wouldn't always fight pain-free, so might as well get used to that now.

When she came down, only Wanda, Vision, Steve and Nat were there.

"Tony's working downstairs, Bruce it watching him so he doesn't blow himself up, Clint went home and no idea where James is," Nat reported upon noticing her wandering gaze. Dolores slapped her hand against her forehead.

"Shit. I said I'd get him for dinner. Though..." James would hate it being forced to sit here with all those people. She tried to formulate that as nicely as possible when Wanda handed her one of the fully loaded plates and two bottles, one water, one Coke.

"We don't mind if you eat alone. It takes time getting used to." With a grateful 'thank you' Dolores took the offerings and headed back upstairs.

The sound of the gun was deafening and Dolores flinched at every shot as she stood in front of the glass door. James was firing a handheld, that's all she could tell with her limited interest and therefore knowledge of firearms. His body was tilted sideways, giving an as little area as possible for the enemy to target, his arm steady as steel as he fired the gun again and again, without flinching, without blinking, without hesitating. When the magazine was empty, Dolores managed to tear herself out of her trance and pushed open the glass door with her hip while balancing the plate. James looked up, his concentration broken.

"Hey. I forgot to get you for dinner, so Wanda sent me up with dinner." She set down the plate and the bottles on a table meant for cleaning weapons and looked back to James who had come closer.

"Do you want me to leave? I thought you might want to time to yourself." She was all ready to leave, seeing as she had bothered him for almost three days straight. But he just shook his head absentmindedly, his eyes fixed on the blood stain on her shoulder.

"No, it's fine," he murmured, placing the empty gun on the table. Even that mindless answer, which he had muttered with his thoughts somewhere completely different had her heart skip a beat for some reason. Even more so when he reached out to her injured shoulder. She backed away just in time for his fingers to miss her now bare skin. Only now did he look up at her. She hastily tried to hide her confusion at her own heart with an apologetic smile.

"It's fine, it's just a scratch, nothing bad. Looks worse than it is."

"It still has to be cleaned." His voice was soft and suddenly he was way too close. Still more than a meter from her, but much too close. She shifted away, moving to get the emergency kit that was positioned beside the glass door she had come through.

"True that. There should be some disinfectant in there." She handed James a toast and busied herself with finding the disinfectant and a gauze while burning her mouth on the pineapple of her own toast. Cursing herself for not letting the robot help her Dolores twisted until she could almost reach the cut with the gauze she had disinfectant on. And froze when she felt the cool metal of his left arm take the gauze from her and give her back her toast with the other one. She didn't object as she blew on her toast while he softly dabbed the gauze on and around her wound, cleaning the dried blood from her skin and from the cut. She barely felt his hands move across her skin as he applied a big plaster to the cut. She only felt him when he gently pressed the plaster onto her skin to make it stick.

Trying to recover from her shallow breath, Dolores took another bite from her toast, talking through her full mouth.

"While you're at it, could you check the shot as well? Same arm." Setting down the toast, she carefully snaked her arm out of her sleeve, leaving so much of her skin exposed. The bandage seemed to blend in with her white skin, but James had no problem finding it. He was careful not to touch her with his right hand, using his left to freshly disinfect and clean the wound that had healed quite well over the last few days. He rebandaged her arm, crumpling up the bandage she had ruined in her shower that morning. When he was done she cleared her throat and moved away from him as to calm her messed up heart.

"Thanks. It's almost six. I'm not hungry anymore, so I'll go down and shower. You come and join me when you're ready?" James nodded and grabbed another toast and the gun to clean the latter. Dolores slipped out of the room and pulled a deep breath into her lungs.

What the hell was happening with her head? She shook out her copper hair and made her way to the elevator. It was probably just her body overreacting. It had been ages since she had let a man into her life, so her hormones must see the small friendship between her and James as its jackpot. Where they even friends? Dolores would consider James her friend, she liked him, enjoyed being around him. It was nice to be around someone without having to talk or entertain them in any way. James' words came back to her. Not having to talk. The last person she had had that with was Nessy. She thought back to the conversation she had had with James just hours earlier. Yeah, she would call it a conversation. He had spoken more on his accord than he ever had. She brushed over the bandage covering her arm below her sleeve. She almost expected to feel his touch there, but it was just her own, much rougher than his had been.

Heavens... Dolores shook her head. This had never happened to her with any other person, let alone a patient. She decided to keep an eye on that strange feeling tonight as she made her way to her room.


	16. Chapter 16

Day 5, 18:19

Dolores had curled up on one of the armchairs in her room, staring out at the slowly awakening city as James quietly entered her room. She smiled at him quickly before she brushed her wet hair behind her ear, turning back to the window. She had pushed the two armchairs apart, with the small round table as a barrier between them. She wanted James to be comfortable and that wasn't going to happen with her too close to him. He was a soldier at core, an assassin at that, he needed the assurance that he could react to any of her moves in time. Thus she had curled up into a knot, her little notepad lost somewhere within the folds of her body, her pencil dancing nervously around her fingers.

"Pick a seat. Anything you want to talk about?" She made sure to brush his face every now and then with her eyes to catch his reactions, but to look out onto the city otherwise. At least, that had been the plan. She caught herself looking at him much more often than she had planned. She watched the unnoticeable changes in his expression as he scanned the room, picking the seat she had prepped for him. How his eyes were drawn to the lights of the city. She wondered how he felt, seeing the city that never slept awaken for the first time. Or if that even was his first time.

"Have you been to New York before?" He tilted his head a bit to the side, the only sign that he had heard her question.

"I grew up here. Though I don't remember much. Steve was much smaller then, I remember that. He lived alone, and I always wanted him to move into our place." Dolores smiled without even feeling it, thinking back to the pictures of Steve before the experiments.

"Yes. His mother died and he was alone. You were with him at the funeral."

"I don't remember that," he murmured, regret furrowing his brow.

"Don't stress about it. You will eventually." He looked at her and she was struck by the fear that haunted his eyes.

"What if I don't?" His fear overwhelmed her and he wasn't even close. She felt the panic at having lost that life that everyone but him knew about wash over her and she pinched her eyes together, blocking out his face, his soul that had started showing in it. She breathed. How would she ever be able to help him if she couldn't even handle his emotions when he had barely shown them to her. She did what Nessy had taught her. Pulled back, let the words play in front of her, analyzed them with the cold interest with which she had analyzed muscles and nerves.

"You don't have to. I don't remember everything from my childhood. Heck, given the years I've been around, I don't remember shit. Only the strongest memories stay with us, and those will come back. They are part of who you are. And you have so much more memories than anyone else, not even Steve. You have almost a whole life worth of them while you are only one-third in. You won't remember everything, but enough." He nodded and looked back out at the city that held a thousand tiny lights against the drapes of darkness. "And for everything else, that's what anecdotes are for. Steve will tell you stories as they become relevant in the conversation, Stark might as well, and you will recognize them, maybe even remember." That thought seemed to console him somewhat. Silence settled over them and Dolores got a chance to inspect the slight rings under his eyes. They were much softer than they should have been after three days without sleep, and Dolores wondered how long Hydra had pushed him to go without.

"Why don't you sleep?" He shrugged his shoulders as if it was something that he had never thought about, that had never bothered him.

"Don't know. Guess I'm used to not sleeping."

"How long would Hydra keep you up?"

"Five, ten days? I don't know, they never gave me a way to tell time. It took time to get out of cryo, so whenever two missions were too close together, they'd keep me out of it. I didn't sleep, that's what cryo was for. Outside it was missions, patching up, eating and back to cryo or the cell." Dolores nodded, her eyes closed. She tried to imagine what it must have been like, sitting in the cell for days without a sense for time. Finally, she understood how he had stayed so still in the Vault. Waiting for a few hours must have been nothing when compared to waiting for days on end. And what a relief it must have been to finally hear keys in the door, to know he was needed again, got to move again.

"Going on missions must have been heaven." His glance shot to her and she could sense the small pang of panic in his gut at how accurate she was.

"I always felt it was wrong looking forward to them like that. But they were the best thing. They made sure to have me looking forward to them. They were almost like rewards. If I killed whoever was on their blacklist that time, I got another one. It was always nice, being alone." He chuckled lightly, although there was nothing happy about the sound. "I got pretty good at playing them. Take as long as possible to kill the target without Hydra being suspicious." He looked back out at the city, his mind far away from the tower. Dolores' mind did the same, his words reminding her of the thousands of times she had done just that. Stall as long as possible to stay away from home without her father getting suspicious or turning his attention to something else. She shuddered at the memory and tried pushing them away. James had noticed her shuddering and concern was woven into his voice.

"Are you okay?" Dolores looked up and nodded, not able to bring herself to smile.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just some unpleasant memories."

"Would you want to forget them?" Confused Dolores tried to pick apart what he meant. "If you could, would you want to get rid of unpleasant memories?" Dolores thought about that. The memories had her shudder every time and the guilt and self-hatred threatened to wash her away. But she wouldn't want to loose them. They were essential to who she was, for nothing in the world she'd give them up.

"No. The memories are not what I want to change. Forgetting them would mean forgetting the mistakes I've made. Why?"

"I... I remember more from Hydra than from before. And I'm not sure whether I even want to remember any more." Dolores kept her gaze steady on his face, but his expression was unchanging like steel, giving her no hint at the terrors lurking behind his eyes. Dolores tried to think of something to say. She couldn't even begin to imagine the horrors he was seeing in his past, and she'd feel like a sellout if she'd comfort him on the base of something she didn't know. And he'd have to learn how to deal with those images anyway. But before she could sort out her emotions from her analytical mind, a sharp breath pulled her out of her thoughts. James had tried to move his neck and the wound from the knife had reopened, a string of blood collecting in his shirt. Immediately, Dolores got up. She noticed how he tensed at her sudden movement and despite him relaxing only moments later, she cursed herself for being so careless.

"May I?" He nodded, causing more pain that didn't show on his face. Dolores rushed over to her backpack and tore it open, grabbing the things she'd need. She dabbed some disinfectant on a gauze and carefully cleaned away the blood. It was very little but better safe than sorry. He tilted his head to allow her better access to the wound and didn't flinch when the disinfectant touched the wound. She stuck a new plaster over the wound.

"You won't need that, just for one more night. After that, the skin should be healed enough on its own. Is it okay if I take a look at the other two as well?" He just nodded. Dolores grabbed a pair of plastic gloves. Like that she could work without constantly having to worry about touching him. She helped him out of his shirt and focused on naming his muscles as they moved smoothly under his skin to not loose concentration. As soon as she got her hands onto the bandage covering the wound in his shoulder, she went into full medical mode. The wound on his shoulder was healing nicely and she simply applied a new bandage. The wound to his side had suffered from the lack of rest the first few hours after the shot, but Banner had sown it up quite nicely and Dolores just ended up doing another bandage change here as well.

Only when she was tying the last bandage around his belly did she notice how oddly calm he was. He wasn't tense or uneasy. He just sat there, watching her, about as relaxed as she had ever seen him. Dolores wondered if the procedure had something familiar about it, something that calmed him because he remembered it. But usually being around a doctor was never a calming experience, even when it wasn't one of Hydra's mad scientists. At that thought, her look got caught on the network of scars on his left shoulder. He had scars everywhere, but here they overlapped and snaked around each other in ever twisting vines. Hydras surgeons had either been extremely unskilled or equally careless. A strand of hair got loose from its prison behind her ear, but she was too caught up in the vivid images of how much damage must have been done for his arm to look like this to care.

"Jesus Christ, that's some butchery. Even my first stitches weren't that bad," she muttered under her breath as she tried to recreate the procedure that had led to the attachment of the metal arm. She had never been interested in biomechanics, but right now she really wanted to know how much the wires and metal in his arm resembled the original physiology. Whether wires had replaced the nerves. How the one was attached to the other.

She was torn out of her thoughts when James shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. She jumped back to her chair, curling herself up as small as possible to hide her embarrassment.

"Sorry, Christ, I don't know what that was. So sorry. I... Surgeon taking over. Super sorry. Uhm... I dunno, it's kinda late. Do you want to go? Because I gotta move right now. There's a balcony on the end of the hall, wanna join me?" Without waiting for an answer, Dolores jumped up and fled the room.

Bucky followed Dot out to the balcony, his mind still caught up with how she had looked at his arm. There had been fascination etched all over her face. His arm was a weapon, built to kill. He couldn't count the number of throats he had crushed with it, the number of necks he had snapped. And yet, there had been no fear in her eyes. Nobody had ever looked at him like that. Especially not at his arm.

He followed her onto the balcony and felt some of his tension shed as no more walls crowded him in. Dot leaned onto the railing, the wind that raced around the high floors of the tower gripping into her hair, tearing it around like a copper flame. He wondered whether he should ask the question that had been burning his tongue for the whole day. The more he thought about it, the harder it became to stay quiet. It was a strange feeling, on he couldn't remember ever to have felt before. The burning need to know something, not because it was essential for a mission, but because it seemed to hurt a person he cared about. He had never cared whether a person around him was hurt.

He watched her peaceful face as she looked out onto the city. The milliard of lights beneath them had something soothing and equally breathtaking about it. He thought about the gold glittering paint in the metal case. With that, she could paint lights like those.

"What happened to Nessy?" Her head shot around, and her eyes burned like coal into his. But he forced himself not to look away. There was fear in her eyes now, and he thought how strange it was that this woman wasn't afraid of a machine designed to kill, but could be scared by a few words. When she didn't answer, he tried to explain the sudden question.

"The way you talk about her... you haven't seen her in some time, or?"

He did his best to hold her gaze, trying to understand the thoughts hidden behind her frozen expression. But she was just as good in hiding as in reading him. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Who was he to drag out her past? He had wanted to interact with her as little as possible so that leaving as soon as his injuries had healed would be easy. And here he was, asking questions she clearly didn't want to answer. "I'm sorry. Forget I asked." He turned and made his way to flee the scene, trying to get as far away from her has possible. But she stopped him.

"No, please don't leave. It's okay. You're right. I should be telling someone. And you seem like you can keep a secret." Her smile was unsure. "I need to show you something." With that she turned and left the balcony, heading for the elevator. Bucky followed her once more, stepping into the metal case. "Friday, can I borrow one of the cars?"

"Mr. Stark has set aside a vehicle for the use of the tower residents."

"Okay, thanks. The garage then." The elevator started to move.

The car ride was silent, but not uncomfortably so. Dot seemed caught up in her own thoughts and Bucky was happy watching her. He had learned that he liked doing that over the last few days. Her presence, watching her, it calmed him. He had always preferred being alone, but that had seemed to change. He still wasn't too keen on talking to her, anybody at that, but it seemed easier with her. The words slipped from his tongue more easily, almost eager to leave the prison behind his teeth. But also silence around her was comfortable. It relaxed him, although he wasn't sure whether his constant slipping of concentration around her was a good thing. The closer she got, the worse that loss became. Now was fine though, with her in the driver's seat and him a good distance from her.

He paid little attention to where they were going, knowing his subconscious could lead him back in the quickest way possible as soon as adrenaline deemed that necessary. He watched her drive, losing himself in the familiar movements. Only when they stopped did he look up, taking in his surroundings as they got out of the car. Lights flashed as Dot locked the car, then darkness settled in around them as they walked between trees. The park they were walking in seemed familiar but he couldn't force himself to remember. Like a familiar taste on the back of his tongue, the taste lingered, eventually retreating as he picked up as much as he could. He followed her until the first stones appeared. They were in a Graveyard. Green-Wood Cemetery. He looked at her, trying to pick up if she felt the same unease as he did, knowing a hundred dead bodies under his feet. But she seemed relaxed, a tiny smile even playing around her lips.

After walking for some time, Dot stopped in front of a gray stone with a small patch of dying flowers in front of it.

"I don't come as often as I should," she croaked, her voice quiet and hoarse, small, as if afraid to wake the spirits around them. Bucky focused on reading the inscription on the stone.

 _Vanessa Mahr_

 _1990 - 2014_

 _We're all Stardust in the end_

Bucky felt like a fist had punched all air out of his lungs. He looked over to Dot, who was smiling down at the stone with a heartbreakingly sad smile.

"I'll have to get new flowers, I don't think I can save these," she kept going, her voice quivering. She sat down in front of the stone, crossing her legs. Bucky followed her example behind her.

"I try to tell no one that she's dead. Everyone would be so sorry. I hate that. I'm so done with that. And she wants me to live on. It's no use if both of us take the hit." Before he could ask what hit, she kept on talking.

"It's my fault, mostly, that she's dead. I didn't pay attention, I wasn't watching out for her enough. We promised we would, we had to, kind of, after mom died. And I didn't." Her voice was shaking, breaking, shattering into a thousand shards. But no tears ran over her face. Only her voice betrayed her.

"But she always did. She did it with a kitchen knife, in our kitchen. To everyone, it looked like a cooking accident. A quirky 24-year old wanting to cook a surprise meal for her big sister, the day after her birthday, not able to handle knives. But she knew knives. She'd played with them for so long, if anyone knew how to handle one, it was Nessy. But she did that for me. She made it look like an accident so nobody would ask questions. Nobody would blame me, or Dad." She spat out the last word and the brushed the grass where it had landed, brushing it off her sister's grave to the next one. Her whole body was shaking, and Bucky put his right hand on her back, stabilizing her so she wouldn't fall.

"She gave me the case the night before on her birthday. When mom was still alive, we used to do that. Whenever it was the birthday of one of us, the other would get a small present as well, so that nobody would be jealous. She had it planned for days. She was always the one with the plan. She's pulled me out of so many disasters with her plans." She looked at him, her expression one of such vulnerability Bucky wanted to protect her, from the world, and from her own pain.

"That's why I don't want to open the case. She gave it to me, knowing she wouldn't be around for me to open it. And I don't want that. I don't want her to be gone." Now a tear was running down her face. How many tears had she already shed because of him? She had said Nessy had been the only one to see her cry. And he had made her cry so many times in the short time she knew him. He brushed the tear away carefully, as not to hurt her with the hard metal of his thumb. To his surprise, she fell against him, sinking towards his touch, until he was holding her, careful not to touch her so not to confuse her emotional turmoil with his own. She was crying into his shirt, but he didn't mind. His head and heart pulsed with too much tender sadness and he felt as if he might melt from the overload.

Until a shot rang out. The pain reached his brain before the sound did and he heard himself grunt before he could clench his teeth together. He registered the fear in her eyes as she shot to a stand before he had to curl over to keep the pain from tearing him apart. He couldn't even tell where the bullet had hit him, all he knew that he was on fire, the wounds on his shoulder and side burning like molten steel. But he had to get her to safety. They might kill him, but they'd do worse to her. He glanced up to notice not fear, but fury on her face.

"Will you fucking stop shooting him!" Her voice was shrill and strong, the drying tears on her face a grotesque contrast to the burning anger in her voice. She held out a hand in the air, palm facing the ground, her fingers apart as if she was feeling the air for their enemy. Again the line on her wrist lit up in the same bright white light as her eyes, and she whipped her head around as the screaming started to the right of them. Bucky watched her clench her hand into a fist in fearful awe. Gone was the woman that had been devastated at having hurt others. In terrible fury she drove their attacker out of his hiding spot, a soldier stumbling towards them, fleeing from an unimaginable pain searing into his back. That was until she released her hand and stared at him with those beautifully terrible glowing eyes, the man's screams echoing through the graves around them.

"And not on Nessy's grave," she hissed as the light died in the soldier's eyes. Bucky winced as she turned to him, the anger still burning in her eyes, the lights still there. He froze in terror as she put her hand on the side of his neck, the sensation ruled out by the feeling coursing through him. It was as if a gust of hurricane had blown right through him and had taken the pain from him. She let go of him and pulled him up by his metal arm. Surprisingly, there was no pain. Just a soft thudding where his nerves were supposed to be on fire. She didn't let got as she dragged him back to the car, taking no care as he stumbled behind her, almost falling at her fast pace. Only when the car doors had closed around them did the glow in her eyes fade.

Suddenly her breathing grew heavy and when she looked at him he could see the horror at what she had done in her eyes. A horror he knew all too well. But while the glow faded, the pain slammed back into him full force and he curled around the pain, gritting his teeth together to not scream.

"Oh, fuck. Sorry. Wait a second, I'll find something." He faintly registered her scrambling to the back of the car.

"This is a fucking Avengers Car, these guys are destined to get hurt, there has to be a first aid here." She kept rambling on, but he was ripped away, as much as he tried to concentrate on her words, the pain was overtaking him. The question what the fuck Hydra had shot him with brushed his burning brain, but it took no root in the flaming soil of his nerves. Suddenly he felt a sting in his right arm. He wanted to lash out at the new pain as if he didn't have enough when all of it faded to nothing. Slowly, his body grew heavy and the pain ebbed away. He just barely managed to catch Dot's last words before his eyes fluttered shut.

"... sedative... take you to the Tower... don't worry..."

Then blissful oblivion dragged him away.


	17. Chapter 17

Day 7, 23:38

Dolores shot up as a groan escaped James' lips. She climbed over to his side of the bed and moved between the headboard and his head in a well-practiced routine.

Whatever the sedative had been, it and the poison from the bullet had mixed into something that had knocked James out for over two days now. Banner was still analyzing the blood samples, but the mixtures of three drugs, with only Steve's blood as a reference for one was making things a lot more complicated.

Unable to do anything else, Dolores had stepped forward to wait until James woke up. She needed time to process what the hell had happened and it gave the wound on her arm a good chance to heal.

However, James slept very uneasily. Dolores was awoken from her own sleep by him crying out in Russian, spewing words she didn't understand. She had guessed that he had nightmares, but the intensity of his nightly visions scared her somewhat. But she didn't back away, what kind of doctor would she have been to flee a patient's suffering. Instead, she did the only thing she knew that might help. She climbed onto the bed, forcing his head into her lap and started to read to him while massaging the tense muscles of his neck through her new gloves. She had brought some of the new books she had ordered with her to pass the time, and now, they helped pass the hours of tossing and turning in self-imposed agony.

The sound of her voice and her touch seemed to calm him and he grew quiet again, his body relaxed and his mind seemed to drift back into unconsciousness. At first, she would move back to the armchair she had claimed for the time of her stay, but eventually, she gave up on that and just stayed on the bed.

James' room was, just like she had suspected, an exact copy of hers. Dolores wondered why Stark Tower had so many rooms, but her tired mind wouldn't even offer up a proposal. She had slept only a few hours scattered over the two days she had been watching over James, his constant nightmares keeping her awake. She had burrowed through her books, finishing the novels first, then reading to him about Aquarelle techniques and the art of composition. She was halfway through her second time of reading The Count of Monte Cristo, when James groaned and tore her out of the chapter.

It was the first sound he had made that wasn't coaxed with pain, fear, hatred or anger. She moved away quickly, retreating back to the other side of the bed. His head rolled to his side and his breathing evened out. He was awake. His eyes were still closed but he was awake, his even soft breathing giving him away. Even in his calmest moments, his breath wasn't that even.

Dolores opened the page back up and kept reading:

 _"Ah, here is my mother," cried the viscount._

 _Monte Cristo, turned round hastily, and saw Madame de Morcerf at the entrance of the salon, at the door opposite to that by which her husband had entered, pale and motionless; when Monte Cristo turned round, she let fall her arm, which for some unknown reason had been resting on the gilded door-post. She had been there some moments, and had heard the last words of the visitor. The latter rose and bowed to the countess, who inclined herself without speaking._

 _"Ah! good heavens, madame," said the count, "are you ill, or is it the heat of the room that affects you?"_

 _"Are you ill, mother?" cried the viscount, springing towards her._

 _She thanked them both with a smile._

 _"No," returned she, "but I feel some emotion on seeing, for the first time, the man without whose intervention we should have been in tears and desolation. Monsieur," continued the countess, advancing with the majesty of a queen, "I owe to you the life of my son, and for this I bless you. Now, I thank you for the pleasure you give me in thus affording me the opportunity of thanking you as I have blessed you, from the bottom of my heart."_

 _The count bowed again, but lower than before; he was even paler than Mercédès._

 _"Madame," said he, "the count and yourself recompense too generously a simple action. To save a man, to spare a father's feelings, or a mother's sensibility, is not to do a good action, but a simple deed of humanity."_

 _At these words, uttered with the most exquisite sweetness and politeness, Madame de Morcerf replied:_

 _"It is very fortunate for my son, monsieur, that he found such a friend, and I thank God that things are thus."_

James' eyes had opened. She glanced over at him for a moment, feeling his gaze on her lowered eyes. Whether it was her tiredness or the aftermath of the sedative, Dolores couldn't tell, but she couldn't read his expression, his eyes steady on her. She turned back to the book and continued making her way over sentences she had read a thousand times before.

 _And Mercédès raised her fine eyes to heaven with so fervent an expression of gratitude, that the count fancied he saw tears in them. M. de Morcerf approached her._

 _"Madame," said he. "I have already made my excuses to the count for quitting him, and I pray you to do so also. The sitting commences at two; it is now three, and I am to speak."_

 _"Go, then, and monsieur and I will strive our best to forget your absence," replied the countess, with the same tone of deep feeling. "Monsieur," continued she, turning to Monte Cristo, "will you do us the honor of passing the rest of the day with us?"_

 _"Believe me, madame, I feel most grateful for your kindness, but I got out of my travelling carriage at your door this morning, and I am ignorant how I am installed in Paris, which I scarcely know; this is but a trifling inquietude, I know, but one that may be appreciated."_

"You read very well," James murmured, his eyes still fixed on hers. Dolores smiled and put the book down, slipping the photo she used as for a bookmark between the pages.

"I was never good at the whole comforting thing. So whenever Nessy was crying or upset, I'd read to her. I found the sound of a voice calming, and it worked for her too." A small smile weighed down by the sadness of the things he now knew, tugged at his lips. "How are you feeling?" Only now did the memory of what had happened seem to return to him and he frowned, trying to answer the question.

"Fine. I think. The wounds hurt, but otherwise, I think I'm okay." Dolores breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back against the headboard.

"Good. You really had us worried. Me and Steve mostly." Confused he pushed himself into a seating position beside her and Dolores quickly turned her attention to the cover of the book in her hands. Banner had had to cut the shirt James had been wearing away to get to the new wound. James chuckled quietly and tore her out of her embarrassment.

"What?" Dolores' heart jumped when the smile stayed on his lips.

"I was trying to remember how we got here. Last thing I know is you, Hydras newest runaway experiment screaming at Hydra to stop shooting me, their greatest security breach in their history." Again, he laughed quietly at the ridiculousness of the situation. Dolores giggled when she thought about yesterday. Sure, it had been a horrible night, but that had been funny, now that she thought about it.

"Yeah, I guess I just lost it. I mean, fucking hell, they shot you three time in five days, once with poison, and once they almost cut your internal jugular vein! And what pisses me off the most is that they don't even consider what effect all that trauma has on your body! It's a bloody miracle you don't have any internal bleedings yet. Precise my ass!" Dolores rambled on. "And here we go, me rambling away again." She sighed and took a deep breath, calming her rising temper. She hated anger, it was such an unnecessary feeling. She closed her eyes, soothing herself until she felt like she had calmed down. "Sorry. I talk a lot when I get angry. Eventually, I end up saying things I don't mean. It's a bad habit." James nodded and inspected the extra bandage on his side.

"What poison was it?" He met her gaze briefly, before returning his attention to the white cotton. "I'm immune to most by now. It has to be something new." Dolores nodded.

"Makes sense. We don't really know, actually. Banner and Stark are all over it, but it's hard to extract, with the Soldier serum and the remaining traces of the serum they gave me mixing with it." James nodded, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Though Dolores could tell where they were. He was trying to find his mistake. Every professional did that when something went wrong. They went back step by step and tried to find where they had gone wrong.

"I have a chip." She tapped her neck to show where it was. Banner had her get an x-ray to check for any broken bones or torn sinew. They found the chip instead. It was exactly at the tiny little hole through which the serum had entered her.

"It got in there with the serum. Stark thinks it's a kind of tracer. That's how they found us," she explained. Again he nodded, the confusion clearing from his eyes.

"And when will they take it out?" She looked at him with surprise, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the pages of the novel, feeling the edges of the paper as if they were the blades of her knives.

"Soon. Stark is trying to talk Banner into doing it, but he's a physicist, not a surgeon. I'm thinking about going to a hospital, but Hydra would know I'm there, so it's a stupid idea." Her gaze was tracing her fingers lazily, watching over the fragile skin as it played with the paper. When silence settled over them she looked up to find James watching her, concern in his eyes. "What?" she asked, her voice soft and small for a reason she didn't know.

"You didn't sleep. You are tired." His right arm twitched, as if wanting to follow the lines of the rings beneath her eyes, and for a second she wished he would. She was indeed tired, and her logical side grew weaker and weaker with every hour of sleep she was missing.

"I was waiting for you to wake up. The poison had you in terrible pain, so I knocked you out with some sedative. It had you out for over two days now, I was super worried. And you had bad dreams, so I read to you. It always helped Nessy, so I thought it would be worth a try." She smiled a tired little smile and looked back down at her book. She wished it was her copy. Nessy had drawn in that one. Her heart ached at the happy memory. Suddenly, James gently pried the book out of her hands.

"Then sleep now. If you don't tell them I woke up, they'll leave me in peace some more. And you can sleep." Astonished at the suggestions, she pondered it for a while. Friday probably knew James was awake but true, Steve had asked her to report when James woke up, not Friday. She'd tell him if he asked, but for now, the idea would work. Dolores leaned over to the stack of books by her bedside and piled The Unwanteds onto the Count, then she shuffled down so that her head was lying beside his hip. She wrapped the blanket around her in a tight cocoon and fell asleep pretty much as soon as she stopped moving.

Bucky felt the heat rising to his head when Steve opened the door and grinned at him, finding Dot's head on his lap, her arms around him. About three chapters into the book she had given him, she had moved to that position and hadn't let him go since. He didn't really mind though. He enjoyed how close she was to him, proud of how she instinctively trusted him, even though he didn't understand that. With nowhere else to put it, he had rested his metal arm carefully on her shoulder, but she had shifted under him so that it seemed like he was holding her there.

Bucky closed the book as Steve stepped into the room. His friends' gaze flickered to the white bandages contrasting against his skin and Bucky felt the dull aching of the wounds. He was sure there was some sort of pain medication keeping the pain at bay, and he was trying to feel when that would wear off so that he could disappear before waking Dot.

Steve walked up to the bed and sat on the chair Dot must have put beside the bed. He looked at her with a warm smile.

"She said she'd tell me when you woke up. Seems like she didn't make it herself. Was awake for almost the whole two days straight, said she didn't want to sleep or switch in case you woke up." With a pang of guilt, Bucky looked down at the dark circles under her eyes.

"She was awake. I said she should go to sleep."

"Why didn't you tell Friday then?" Bucky shot a dark glance at the ceiling.

"I don't like it." Puzzled, Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? She's really not that bad, and hella helpful." Bucky hesitated at the words aligning on his tongue, but a voice inside him urged him on. No need to keep secrets from his best friend. Even though they both weren't sure whether they still were that.

"The last voice from a computer belonged to the guy who cut off my arm. Or what was left of it," he murmured looking spitefully at the silver resting on Dot's shoulder. He wanted to yank it away, get it as far away from her as possible, but that would wake her up. While he was watching her, feeling his expression soften involuntarily, she shifted slightly, pulling the hated vibranium closer to her, holding on to his hand.

His heart seemed to stop for a moment and he wished he could feel more than just the slight pressure of her touch on his shoulder. When he looked up, he caught Steve's amused gaze.

"What?" Steve shook his head, grinning.

"Nothing. I'm just happy you get along with her at least." Bucky toyed with the thought of refuting that claim, but seeing that the evidence, although wrongly interpreted, clearly spoke against that, he just grinned. "So, how are you getting along. You really freaked me out. I thought you'd vanished again until Friday could find Dolores."

"Sorry," he murmured. "She wanted to show me something, so we took the car. Hydra shot me, and she had those glowing eyes again."

"Okay... What exactly did she do?" All of a sudden, Steve's tone was serious again, mentally logging the data for the new player on the field. Bucky wanted to chase him off right there, protect Dot from that world that wanted her for her new strange powers, hide her away, somewhere where she could be herself again without worrying or fearing for her life. But that impulse was nonsense. Steve wanted the best for Dot as well, knowing what Hydra wanted from her would help protect her.

"Her eyes were glowing, and that line on her wrist was as well. She did something and the guy who shot me was screaming. I think she drove him out of his hiding place with pain as well, he was holding his back and screaming his lungs out. Then she killed him like the others." At that, his hand tightened around hers as he once more saw the horrified look in her eyes after she had realized what she had done. He went on, his fingers tracing the spot on his neck that she had touched earlier. "Then she touched me here and I think she numbed my nerves. I didn't feel the pain anymore. She pulled my up and dragged me to the car. Only when we were in it, the glowing stopped." Steve nodded, his brows furrowed at his racing thoughts.

"Okay... yeah, makes sense. The car is an old SHIELD car, it's bulletproof and god knows what else. She must have known that."

"Why is that so important?"

"I'm trying to figure out what her powers are linked to. Because if it's something she can't control, we're in for some trouble."

"She's always really pissed when she used them," Bucky suggested. Steve smirked.

"True. But I sincerely doubt our little doctor here is another Hulk." Bucky joined in with a grin. He really had to get caught up with the powers of the team around him. He looked back down at Dot's peaceful face. Maybe he could get her to tell him.

The thought surprised him and he froze his face as not to let anything show. Since when did he cherish someone's company over being alone? What the hell had she done to achieve that? He couldn't deny the truth of that idea, he enjoyed having her around. His heart did another of those jumping things. He'd have to figure that one out another time. He couldn't think with Dot and Steve that close. At least that hadn't changed. His mind worked best with nobody watching him.

"Well, how about some food? You've been out for days, you must be starving." He wasn't. Hydra had made sure of that. He wouldn't be for another four weeks. But Dot would need to eat when she awoke.

"Sounds good. I'm guessing I'm not allowed to get up yet." Steve grinned.

"Doctor's orders. Also, not that you could," he added, pointing at the sleeping Dot. Before Bucky could think of a good answer, Steve had slipped out of the room.

His gaze drifted back down to Dot. He was both fascinated and terrified by the image of her hand holding his metal one. But he didn't want to risk waking her by pulling it away. Instead, he carefully pushed a copper curl out of her face. He thought about picking the book back up, but he closed his eyes instead. He might not be able to sleep, now that his body had rested for so long, he wouldn't need sleep for a good week, but like that, he could feel her warmth. Her body radiated heat like a little sun, and it flooded him like light. Warmth was something Hydra had never had. Now it seemed to engulf him. Not heat, just gentle warmth, melting him softly to his core.

Steve felt like his grin was splitting his face when he returned with a tablet of food to find Bucky fast asleep leaning against the headboard. He put down the tablet quietly on the nightstand. All of the food could be eaten cold as well, so he didn't have to worry about that. Before either of them woke up, he snuck out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

When Bucky awoke again, Dot was no longer there. Fear crept up on him and he looked up, but there she was, and the fear dissolved. She was sitting on the other edge of the bed, the book she had read to him in her lap. He wondered why she was always trying to get as far from him as possible. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, for reasons he still couldn't comprehend she clearly did. Dot looked up and when she saw him awake, a smile thawed on her lips.

"You slept again." As astonished he was by that fact, as happy she seemed about it.

"I was enjoying the warmth." She blushed and he realized that she had moved away in hopes that he hadn't noticed the position in which she had awoken. She was cute when she blushed.

"Someone brought food," she motioned to the tablet on the nightstand to distract from her embarrassment. Again Bucky was astonished at how fast he must have fallen asleep.

"Steve brought it. It's for you, I already had mine," he lied. He wasn't hungry anyway, and the idea of taking food Dot needed far more than he had him handing the tablet to her. She thanked him before wolfing down every last bit on the plate.

"And, how are you feeling?" she mumbled through one of her last bites. Bucky felt for his body, but only picking up the dull ache of the shot wounds and a soft burning sensation from dehydration.

"I need some water. The shots almost don't hurt anymore. Otherwise, I think I'm fine." Dot pushed the plate onto the bed and stood up.

"Try to get up then. Banner said he wanted another blood sample when you woke up." She stood at the foot of the bed on his side, probably ready to stabilize him in case he had overestimated his wounded body's capabilities. But it was an over precaution. His muscles worked smoothly together and he stood up without any problems. Dot followed his movement with a critical gaze and only turned to had him a shirt when she was sure he wasn't going to fall. While he pulled the dark blue cloth over his head, she picked up the tablet and he followed her to the elevator with a quick stop at the kitchen.

Bucky was thankful for the silence on the ride down to the basement where the labs seemed to be. His mind was racing through all the different emotions that confused his heart. He didn't know any of them and that unknown made him uneasy. Not that any of the emotions were bad, but he knew better than to fall for that. Hydra had played with his emotions often enough for him to know not to trust them. Dot seemed nice and all of the other people crawling around the tower hadn't attacked him yet, but a mind could be tricked, and he was missing too much information to allow himself to ease up towards them.

And yet, that caution felt wrong. The suspicion he had been trained to feel about everything for as long as he could remember seemed unjustified. He thought about telling Dot. She was good with feelings and the subconscious, maybe she could help him pick this chaos apart. Because he hated it. He hated not knowing what was going on, not having the upper hand. Especially when it came to his own mind.

Before he could debate the idea further, the elevator stopped and the doors opened to a wide open room filled with robots, tables, papers, and a thousand things Bucky couldn't quite identify. His eyes wandered, instinctively trying to take in everything, picking out things that might serve as a weapon. He followed Dot to a glass door behind which the walls and floor were covered in plastic. A metal table had been cleared and another contained an array of medical instruments. He froze as the dreadfully familiar smell hit him.

When she noticed he wasn't behind her anymore, Dolores turned. His whole body was tense, and his hands were clenched into fists as he eyed the instruments behind the room like dancing snakes. She walked back to him and took his right hand into her gloved one. The touch made him look at her and immediately his expression softened. Dolores cursed herself for being so careless. She knew what Hydra had done to him, she should have known how he would react to a makeshift medical center. She caught his gaze.

"Banner needs a blood sample to compare so he can identify the poison." He nodded but made no move towards the room. "We're the only ones here, Banner or Stark or Steve, none of them are here, nobody can hurt you. Only you and me." Again, she tried to pull him gently towards the door and this time he moved, following her tentatively. Dolores led him to the table and made him sit down.

"Take your shirt off. While I'm here I might just check up on your wounds as well." He did as she asked and Dolores found that she had to force herself to concentrate on her medical duties once again. She wondered what about his bare skin she found so distracting. She shook those thoughts out of her head and went to get bandages, gauzes, disinfectant, scissors, and a syringe. James tensed as she picked up the syringe first and walked over to his right arm. She placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Relax, okay? It will go much easier if the muscle isn't tense." He nodded and looked to the floor. She worked her fingers slightly into the muscle, loosening the fiber beneath her fingers.

"Concentrate on your breathing. Make sure you breathe in for five seconds and out for seven, that's very important." The breathing didn't matter, but it gave him something to focus on rather than the needle approaching him. Making sure her body was shielding his view, she carefully punctured his skin and held the syringe so it wouldn't cause any uncomfortable pressure while James' dark red blood flowed in with the steady pulse of his heart. When the blood had reached the 5ml mark, she pulled the needle out and held a sterile patch to the wound to help the blood clot quicker. When she turned away from his arm, James looked at his blood in the syringe in surprise.

"I didn't even feel that." The surprise in his voice had her grinning in pride.

"That's the way it's supposed to be. Now, tilt you head a bit. Exactly, thanks." She inspected the cut on his neck, but it was barely noticeable. It hadn't healed in peace, there was going to be a scar, but the wound had healed.

"You heal quickly. That's good."

"The serum does that." She nodded, her mouth moving without her as she rolled away the bandage on his shoulder.

"True. Steve also said he heals quickly. Though I still have to see that." Silence settled over them. Dolores noticed James brooding over something, not sure how to say it, but she was too concentrated on inspecting the wounds in his shoulder, abdomen, and side to coax it out of him. However, he seemed to find both words and courage by himself.

"I think, we should scan me as well."

"And why's that," Dolores' mouth asked, as her hands wrapped a new bandage around James' belly. His wounds really did heal exceptionally fast. At this rate, he could loose the bandages in a few days.

"Well, for chips first of all. I don't remember them putting one in me, but there might be one prebuilt into my arm. And also..." He paused for a second, the lowered both head and voice before he continued so that his hair hid him from her. "I heal fast. On longer missions, I sometimes healed before I got back to the compound. Sometimes they cut me open to get any bullets or shrapnel out, but I think they forgot sometimes. Also, Hydra's doctors were never really careful." Dolores froze and stared at him, horrified. She had known Hydra had never cared for James, only for his skills, but she never imagined them to neglect his physical wellbeing as well.

"Those fucking bastards," she cursed, busying her trembling hands with wrapping the last bandage around James' shoulder. "Who the fuck did Hydra hire?! Leaving bloody bullets and fucking shrapnel in their number one assassin?! Has anybody told them about blood poisoning?! It's a bloody miracle you even survived those crackheads. I mean, Christ, not being able to handle a scalpel and a needle, that's already bad, but cleaning wounds is a fucking basic! Prime specimen or not, how did you even make it past that much of medical idiocy?!" James chuckled beneath her raging hands, but that didn't stop her rant. "Sure, freezing you every fucking week gets rid of any infections, but it sure as hell can't be good for you. And metal fucking corrodes, basic physics! Water, plus oxygen, plus metal, equals rust! Oh, and what happens to be the prime function of blood, a fucking liquid? Yeah, carry oxygen! How can anybody be so stupid? That isn't even medicine anymore, that's the basics of using a brain!" She dumped the unused supplies back on the shelf. She turned and took a deep breath, trying to calm her anger. "Sorry. I tend to get really protective over people I care about. Seeing as there's not too many of those," she added with a shy smile. "Which is a pretty odd statement for a psychologist."

But Bucky didn't even really hear the last statement, nor did he care whether it was odd or not. She cared about him. That sentence had his heart racing and his lungs begging for more oxygen. His thoughts could not seem to move on from that sentence, his brain replaying it over and over again, so that he just followed her when she suggested they go upstairs to his room again.

During the ride up to his and Steve's floor, James seemed unusually absent. He was staring at the panel without truly seeing it and followed her, his gaze fixed on nothing. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but she didn't want Steve to burst in on that, so she waited until they were back in his room. They sat back down on the bed, James staring through the covers. When she asked, the question didn't even seem to register with him.

"Can you touch me?" Her gaze shot up. "Without the gloves, I mean." The words seemed to fail him and Dolores waited patiently as he struggled to arrange his thoughts. Having studied and fallen in love with the workings of language, she knew how absurd it was to ask somebody to express his thoughts in the limited means of language, especially when those thoughts weren't clear. "I... When I was with Hydra, they wiped me and froze me often, so that I wouldn't start to feel. I thought, but I didn't feel. People who feel don't kill, not like I did." He kept his stare fixed on the ground, not wanting to see her reaction. "I haven't been wiped in a long time now, and I think the effect is wearing off. I..." He sighed in frustration and looked up at her so that she might understand him without words. "I don't know how to say this...," he admitted, the defeat in his voice slicing her heart. But she understood him anyway.

"That's okay. No language in the world can adequately express thoughts, especially when you're unsure what they even are." She peered into his eyes, trying to pick up what he felt. It hit her suddenly, without warning. Confusion, painfully omnipresent confusion. And he hated it, it terrified him not knowing which way was up. His heart and mind going against his instincts, tearing down the ground he stood on. "But I think I know." She tilted her head, diving into his eyes as her mind wandered into his heart. "You are afraid. You are confused, and you don't even know why. Your instincts, everything that has kept you alive all those years is telling you to flee, to get rid of us, of me." The thought hurt, but now was not the time for her own feelings. It was his heart she was trying to pick apart. "But you don't want to. Your heart yearns to stay and your mind tries to justify it but never hits the spot. You tell yourself that you are safe here, nobody has tried to attack you, the food hasn't been poisoned once, and all damage done to you has come from Hydra, we always tried to fix you up. You also want to stay with Steve. You like him, but mostly you don't want to leave because you know that would hurt him, also something you don't understand. You have never before cared whether you hurt anyone. But all of that, all that your mind tells you, is never quite what your heart feels. And that divide terrifies you." She squinted her eyes, tasting the last few thoughts. She hesitated to speak the next words. "Has Hydra ever... tried to influence more than just your mind?" He looked away, his face freezing to that mask of ice she knew too well. She wanted to reel back, tell him that it wasn't important, that he didn't need to answer that when he did.

"They tried, early on. They had me in a nice cell and gave me some sort of drug whenever I got back from a successful mission. But that made me careless. I remember only wanting to get back to the base. I think I had too many casualties and they stopped using the drug. I guess I was hooked by then and I'm pretty sure I killed one of the doctors that tried to sedate me. They wiped me eventually and started a new program, without feelings this time. I guess they're just too hard to control." Dolores nodded and played with the hem of her right glove.

"That makes sense. Everything here is going against your instincts." She smiled a sad smile. "I guess you're just not used to being treated nicely." She looked back up. "What exactly do you want me to do?" Now it was her turn being vulnerable. She didn't like the feeling of being overwhelmed by foreign emotions, didn't like the confusion that came with it. But if it would help him, she'd be happy to try. James stared down at his right hand.

"I just want to know why my head is such a mess." She smiled assuringly and pulled off her one glove. There was a second in which she could feel the rough texture of his hand before a storm crashed into her mind. She panted and desperately tried to bring order into the chaos. Evening her breathing, she sorted the mess and tried to read it as well as she could.

"You... you like Steve. Steve and me. You don't trust the others. You're unsure whether to trust your feelings, even towards the two of us. They've been messed with by Hydra, who says we couldn't do that. You... you kind of want to get out of here, but then again you don't. You want to be alone, but you don't want to leave. You don't like constantly having to watch out for us, you are tired of the mistrust." She let go of his hand and pinched her eyes closed, trying to sort through the confusing image she had just painted. When she looked up, the hopeful expectation in his eyes cut her soul. The Winter Soldier always knew what to do, he was never confused, always on top of the game. It hurt her to see how much they had broken him, leaving him to learn how to be a human again on his own.

"I... I think you should consider what you want. On the long run. You've been dragged into the clinic, chased out of it and dragged here. None of that was your choice. I think you should decide where you want to go. Do you want to use your powers? For good, for yourself, for harm? Do you want to be alone or part of a team, an organization? Do you want to stay here in New York or somewhere else?" She took a deep breath and tried to collect the courage to speak on. "I'd like it if you chose to stay, but it's up to you. What I'm trying to say is, pick where you want to end up. It wouldn't make sense for you to try to get along with them or me if all you want is to be on your own. So think about that first, then I'll help you with whatever comes next. Okay?" She held his gaze, giving her best to try to hide her fear of one of those potential choices. James nodded and she forced herself to smile. "Good. I'll leave you to think. I'm going to the training floor, in case you need me." She got up and fled the room. She felt like kicking something, and if she was going to go on a rampage she might as well be productive about it. She took up her knives and cradled the blades as if to talk them out of cutting open her sister's skin. Then she began throwing them at her targets.


	18. Chapter 18

Day 8, 12:20

A few minutes after Dot had left, Bucky got up and walked out on the balcony. He hid in a corner so that he couldn't be seen from the hallway. Thinking had always worked best without a roof, but even now, alone under the sky, his thoughts took forever to settle down. When he was eventually greeted by the soothing calm in his skull he turned his attention to what she had asked him.

His first conclusion was to leave. Follow the little dream from his first night in the tower. Just leave and be on his own again. It seemed natural, the easiest. Only when he had grabbed his little escape backpack he had hidden under his bed and saw his hand rest on the doorknob of the back exit did he understand the intended meaning of Dot's words.

Sure, running was easy, but was that what he _wanted_? Did he really want to drift around the world for the rest of his life, his actions always determined by how close his enemies were? That was the life Hydra had forced him into. One without choice, with simulated freedom. He'd still be controlled by them, only able to take those actions that kept them away from him. Yes, it would come easiest to him, hiding being the only thing he was really good at, but he was sick of always having to think about Hydra with every step he took. He turned away from the exit and made his way back up the stairs, slowly, as if not to disturb his thoughts through any rapid motions.

By the time he had reached the seventy-somethingth floor, he was pretty sure staying with the Avengers was the best option. He didn't like the idea of having to be around so many people and especially the idea of having to work in a team, something he definitely didn't know how to do. But he remembered Dot's excitement at the thought of learning a new language. Maybe he could learn as well. It wouldn't be nice, learning in the past had never been nice, always connected with pain, cold and starvation, but he was confident he could do it. And if that meant he could stay with Dot, it would be worth it. Also, on a more practical basis, the Avengers could protect both her and himself from Hydra. Together, they might even be able to take it down. And staying here would not only enable, but force him to use his powers to help others. He had gone through hell because of them, but it would be selfish to let them go to waste. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to help people, but he had a feeling that Dot would approve of that more than him vanishing again. She had more and more become the moral standard for his actions, especially since he wasn't exactly sure whether he had one.

When he got to the training floor he found Dot lying at the feet of a robot, panting heavily. Fear rose from his gut and stole his breath, he wanted to get to her as fast as he could to see if she was okay. But his frantic thoughts were interrupted when she groaned and got back to her feet.

"Are you alright?" a voice from within the robot asked, not sounding at all concerned.

"Never been better," Dot answered and Bucky could hear the determined grin in her voice. At the approval fo physical wellbeing, the robot began moving, throwing punches and kicks at Dot. She managed to evade the first few, dancing a strange dance around the robot, bending and moving like a silk ribbon. But eventually, the robot landed a kick to her side and she was sent sprawling across the mats. Defeated, she lay there for a moment, before turning her head to get up. When she spotted him she smiled and lifted her hand to wave before letting it drop back onto the mat.

"You are very good for having only practiced for two days," Bucky noted, ignoring his instincts roaring in suspicion. She grinned at the compliment and held on to her knees to get herself into a sitting position.

"I had training for like three years when I was a kid. I was better than I thought. It's hard after such a long time, but it's definitely coming back. Right, How?" The robot called How turned its head to respond.

"Definitely." James tried to pick up whether the comment was meant sarcastically or not, but without facial expressions, it was impossible to tell. Dot giggled, then she turned to him, her smile fading from her face as she spotted the backpack.

"You're leaving?" There was a certain sadness to her voice, and James wondered why she would be sad about him leaving. But then the words from earlier crept into his mind. She cared for him. He didn't exactly know what that meant, but it seemed to include her being sad that he left. He shook his head.

"No. I wanted to, but that's what Hydra would want and expect." She furrowed her brow, confused, although relieved to hear he was staying.

"Why would they expect that?"

"I've never worked in a team and I don't trust people. It's the obvious choice to leave. It's the easiest option." He paused, trying to find the words to describe his reasoning. "But I'm tired of Hydra making my choices. Also, Steve would just find me again."

"So, you're staying?" Choked hope sounded in her voice. Bucky nodded, a smile sneaking onto his lips as he saw the joy exploding on her face. Before he could move, she had her arms around his neck, only the thin layer of the fabric of her shirt and her hair separating her skin from his. She pulled back quickly and beamed at him.

"That's awesome!" Her wide grin was infectious and he could feel his smile widen. She really had a beautiful smile. At that moment the redhead walked into the room and he wiped any expressions from his face.

"There you are, Steve and Bruce are making dinner." She spotted the backpack and raised a questioning eyebrow. "You're leaving?"

"Nope! He ain't!" Dot exclaimed before he could even draw a breath to answer. She got up and grabbed a towel to wrap around her neck. "I'll hop into the shower quickly, then I'm there. Steve's floor?" The redhead nodded in agreement, then Dot was gone.

"Coming?" The redhead had turned her attention to him, and Bucky already felt his resolution about staying crumble. He just nodded and followed her to the elevator. They waited in awkward silence.

"I don't bite, you know." Her comment sounded serious, despite the amused tone her voice had assumed.

"It's not your teeth I'm worried about," he mumbled, looking at the way her body instinctively took a fighting stance as soon as she stood still inside the elevator. But the redhead just laughed.

"You're right about that," she smirked before exiting the elevator before him onto Steve's floor.

When Dolores got to the floor above hers, Steve and Banner had been joined in the kitchen by Nat, James was sitting uncomfortably on the couch with Wanda, Vision in the armchair opposite to them and Stark was nowhere to be seen, same as Wilson.

"Where's Wilson?" she asked, striding into the room in a clean pair of cargos and her usual black shirt. She had decided to keep that outfit as a uniform and switch it up only on special occasions. Dinner was not one of those.

"Mr. Wilson headed back to his apartment in DC. He doesn't like Central Park," Vision explained. Shrugging, Dolores let herself fall on the couch between James and Wanda who hissed at her for disturbing her concentration. The witch was trying to set the table without having to stand up and at Dolores' interruption, the plates had dropped half a meter. Dolores found that she was assuming the confidence she had been pretending to have before and grinned back at Wanda's played glare.

"And Stark?"

"Coming, actually," announced a new voice from the elevator. Stark strode into the room in his usual assuming manner and plopped down on the armchair beside Vision. Dot felt herself move closer to James wanting to get away from the face she had hated for so long. She had come over that, she had reasoned herself out of her despise for Stark, but that still didn't mean she liked him. He was one of the many roots of the turn for the worse in her life, and she wasn't going to go easy on him for that, even if he didn't know. Stark noticed, of course, but he didn't comment on it. But she knew Tony Stark pretty well, she knew he'd get back at her for that.

"Tony, what are you doing out of your little cave," Wanda teased, setting down an extra plate.

"I'm actually here to ruin your night." The smile dropped from Wanda's face and everyone turned to Stark, just how he liked it. "Icicles escape has made quite the headlines and half the country wants him dead, the other back in his cell." Dolores noticed how James seemed oddly calm at that news. Nothing new, just another set of people hating him, wanting him dead.

"And what do we do about that?" The concern in Steve's voice had her heart melting. He had just started getting the only piece of his past back that remained, and the world he'd protected so many times was trying to tear it from him. Stark sighed in overdramatised exhaustion.

"Well, so far I've called in a press conference tomorrow to have both our starry Wonderboy and the doctor speak out for him. Then I'll probably be offering tours of the Stark Tower cells to politicians and reporters with Icicle here in one of them."

"No! You're not putting Bucky in one of those cells!" Steve had raised his voice and Stark raised his hands in, not defeat, but a calming gesture.

"Easy there cowboy. Just for the show." Steve wanted to argue, but James interrupted him.

"I think it's a good idea. If the people want me locked up, let them think I am. As long as I stay in the tower, nobody will really care. And if you scare everyone that Hydra might break me out and wipe me again, they'll let me stay here with you rather than in a hospital or a prison, since you might actually be able to take me down together." His matter of factly take on his situation had stunned Steve into silence, but also the others stared at James. Dolores had to refrain from grinning. They had never heard him speak before, especially not to the group. Dolores silently awarded him a sticker and watched as Stark was the first to find his tongue to reel in the support for him.

"See, Icicle and I agree. I own the tower, he goes into the cells. Settled. Now, what's for dinner?"

"Pizza baguettes," Banner answered as Steve was still stunned by both James' openness and Starks arrogance. His voice seemed to break the spell as everyone got up to sit at the set table, courtesy of Wanda. Dolores made sure to save James a seat at the edge of the table since she was pretty sure sitting perched in between Stark and Vision was the last thing he wanted right now. He had lost the backpack, but by the way his gaze was darting around to catch everyone's movements she could tell that he was everything but relaxed.

The baguettes were delicious and Dolores was wondering whether Steve would take requests. She noticed that James wasn't eating any but maybe had already eaten earlier in preparation for his flight from the tower. Again Dolores was overpowered by relief. She had grown to really like him, however difficult it was to get to him. The thought of him leaving, vanishing from her life forever had something hollowing about it, something terrible beyond the limits of what words could capture. But he was still here. As he had said, it was the most reasonable choice, but Dolores couldn't stop the feeling that that wasn't all. There was something she had felt when she had touched him that she couldn't quite capture, couldn't quite figure out, but she was pretty sure it had something to do with him staying.

She sighed into her third baguette and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the hot cheese in her mouth and the dull ache of her whole body mixing. There had been something relaxing about training and she made a mental note to make it a routine. She had managed to keep her stance against How for quite long this time and her knives actually struck the targets by now. She was learning and improving fast and she wondered whether the serum had something to do with that. If it had, Hydra had really fucked themselves.

After dinner, the group slowly dispersed until only Steve, James, Stark, and Dolores were on the floor. Steve had captured James' attention and was seemingly telling him stories so that Dolores had no excuse when Stark walked up to her. Dolores guarded herself and felt her expression grow cold as the billionaire approached.

"Okay doctor, what's your problem with me? Because I don't like having people that don't like me in my tower." Dolores forced herself to smile, the way she smiled at new patients or impatient relatives.

"It is nothing against you personally, and nothing you could help, Mr. Stark. Let's just say that you have indirectly been the root of a lot of my problems for quite some time, and there was a time when I made you personally responsible for that. I have grown past that, I know you had little to do with what has happened. But thoughts once had are hard to loose." More confused than angry now, Stark shifted his weight to distract from his mind racing to make sense of what she had said.

"Meaning what, you're going to pissed at me forever now?" Again, Dolores smiled patiently. She hated dealing with anger, whether it was her own or someone else's. Other people's anger especially, it scared her and had her heart racing, overpowering her mind. She could feel that happening now, but she tried to keep calm. She had the upper hand, she had all the information and she just had to keep smiling. Nothing made anger shatter faster than indifference.

"No. Just that I won't be as affected by your charms as other women you have met and that you shouldn't expect me to braid friendship bracelets anytime soon. Now please excuse me, Mr. Stark." She nodded at him and left before he could stop her. James and Steve were making their way into the hallway and Dolores quickly caught up to them, walking beside James.

"What's up with you and Tony?" Steve asked, a smile covering his concern.

"We have some history he is not aware of. Nothing of his doing, just a chain of events he could have stopped but didn't," Dolores answered with a smile, walking on as if what she had said made complete sense. "Hey James, mind if I join you? I don't feel like sleeping yet." She stared at him, begging him silently to not argue or ask. Somewhat overrun he nodded.

"Sure." Dolores pretended not to notice Steve grinning or James glaring at him and breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them. James' room hadn't changed at all, it still looked as if he hadn't touched anything. She had started sorting her books into the shelve, had gotten her own clothes to replace the stuff she didn't need and her watercolor stuff was littering the table. Soon enough, pictures would start plastering the wall, but for now, only a photo of Nessy and her hung over the desk.

"Sorry to run you over like that. I'll be out of your hair in like ten minutes. I just don't want to run into Stark again," she smiled apologetically after curling up in one of the armchairs.

"No, it's fine. I don't mind the company." He sat down against the headboard of the bed, though only to mirror her actions it seemed. She smiled, one of those smiled that just naturally grew on her face.

"That's new," she noted, her voice soft as not to betray her feverishly beating heart.

"Yeah. Kind of." He eyed the book she had left on his bed earlier and she noticed that the bookmark had moved.

"You can read, don't worry about me. I'm just here to sit out the time until I get tired." He looked at her, unsure whether what she had said was just being nice or whether she really wouldn't mind. Dot demonstratively stared out of the window watching the light fade over the city. James' room was on the other side of the tower as hers and the view of the city was completely different.

James' voice drew her out of her examination of the city. She looked up and again a warm smile bloomed on her face as she realized he was reading the book to her. He continued from where he had left off, but that didn't bother her, she knew the book inside out. Not able to get the smile off her face or that strange warmth out of her heart, Dolores curled up in the chair and just listened. Her eyes drifted off into nowhere, not seeing anything as her head was filled with the vivid landscapes of Artemis. James' voice as soft and quiet, unsure whether to step out into the room or hide behind him. He stumbled over words here and there, seeing as he didn't know the text at all, but Dolores pretended like she didn't hear it. She was enjoying the magic and the secrets tearing Alex apart. She never wanted his voice to end, wanted to stay in the Artemis he was creating for her forever.

Bucky closed to book as his eyes had started to burn. He pinched them close and blamed the sensation on the lack of light. The sun hat set and he hadn't turned on a light. It was a habit, not letting anyone know which room he was in, or when he went to bed. He looked over at Dot. He had seen the small smile when he had started reading out loud which had kept him going rather than abandon the idea after the first word he stumbled over. Now she was asleep, curled up into a tight knot in the armchair. Putting the book away, Bucky got up soundlessly and made her way over to her. He gently unfolded her body and carried her over to the bed, maneuvering her carefully under the blanket. Then he went over to the second armchair and reopened the book. He wasn't going to sleep anyway, and it felt wrong to stay on the bed with her, even if he intended to just sit there and stay awake finishing the story.

He didn't get too far. After a few chapters, Dot started turning and tossing around, whimpering softly every now and then. Bucky got up. He knew the signs of nightmares, having monitored himself to somehow make them less noticeable during his time in Romania. He carefully moved onto the bed, somewhat helpless as to what to do. He felt it would be wrong to touch her in her sleep, especially with her new abilities, but he didn't want to wake her up either. She wasn't like him, she needed the rest. Especially after training today, her body needed the time to recover.

He carefully moved her head so it was again positioned on the cushion and picked up the book again. He read, holding onto it with only one hand, softly caressing her neck and shoulder with his metal one. He pushed the tangled strands of hair away from her face and untangled them, careful not to hurt her in any way. His mouth was moving on his own, working its way through the sentences without really paying attention to them. His mind was focused on tracing light patterns on her skin and listening to her breathing to learn what was helping and what was not. Her breathing settled down and the dream seemed to have passed, but Bucky continued, afraid of startling her by moving away.

After some time, Dot shifted so she was lying on her side, trapping his hand with hers. His heart raced away and he could hardly keep up, his tongue stumbling over more and more words as the climax of the story drew to a close. He somehow made it to the end, having not more than a vague idea of what had happened and again his instincts roared in panic. He was usually able to concentrate on at least two things at the same time. That didn't change around Steve or with the redhead, but something about Dot was causing his concentration to falter. The strangest part about it was that he didn't really mind. It wasn't the uncomfortable feeling of getting too much information at once, nor could he detect any drug like effects on his body. It was strange, but he somehow liked it. It was nice, having his thoughts revolve around only one thing, not spiraling away wherever his instincts took them. It was careless to indulge in such indifference, but for now, he wasn't going to give a shit. He looked down at Dot and he gave into the urge to smile.


	19. Chapter 19

Day 9, 8:02

Dolores woke up slowly, the rising sun goodheartedly coaxing her out of her sleep. She let her mind drift for a while until it gained focus on its own. She slowly realized she had been holding on to James' left hand in her sleep. Instead of panicking and jumping up in embarrassment, she lazily rolled onto her back, looking up at the still, curious eyes watching her.

"I distinctly remember falling asleep on the armchair," she noted, her voice soft and pretending to be accusatory.

"Your body needed the rest after the training." Dolores' heart grew warm with the care in his voice and she smiled up at him.

"Sorry for stealing your hand." Dolores felt heat rising to her cheeks at the thoughts of having held on to him like that for the whole night.

"You had a nightmare," he explained as if that was reason enough for him to allow her this close to him. Following the trail of that thought, Dolores realized he had done that for quite some time now, allowing her closer and closer to him. Whenever she put careful distance between, he closed in on his own accord. She smiled involuntarily. "What?"

"You don't consider me a threat anymore." James grinned.

"After seeing you fight yesterday, no reason to," he teased and Dolores' had to grin as well.

"Hey! I have been getting better. And I've almost beaten How a few times yesterday."

"Robots are predictable. They are easy to beat. Try a human sometime." Dolores jumped up. He looked at her nervously, afraid he had gone too far. No chance of that though, there was no teasing he could do that Nessy hadn't done a thousand times.

"Okay. Try me." She cocked her head provocatively and the grin returned to his face.

"Fine. But not here. You'll hit yourself on something, and where would the fun be if you did my job for me." She made a face at him and rushed out of the room towards the training floor. He was right behind her as she climbed onto the mat.

He was relaxed and for a moment dread crept up on her. What had she been thinking?! He was a trained assassin, she would never beat him. But then Nessy's voice whispered in her ear. _We have the advantage, we always have. They always want something, and we have it._ That had the smirk returning to her face. She pushed the panic from her mind and focused on James. He was relaxed, completely at ease. He was in his favorite environment and with no real threat opposing him, he didn't need to prepare. Dolores took the main stance, her hands slightly stretched out in front of her, facing him.

"Will you stand around there all day, or will you attack," he teased. Dolores grinned.

"Why would I attack you? You wanted to see how well I do, I know it." James smirked and moved for her. He came at her from the left and Dolores let her muscle memory take over, seemingly blocking his arm with her right hand. Like that, she got a feel for his momentum and simply stepped out of his way. She hit his right shoulder, causing him to loose balance. He stumbled forward, spinning around to see her having returned to her main stance, her eyes measuring his every movement. He tried again, and again she managed to evade him, pushing him just so far that his momentum sent her stumbling away from her. Wing Tsun wasn't meant to harm people, it was designed to defend yourself, get your attacker away from yourself and get those precious few seconds to run. Dolores, however, didn't run.

The dance continued, James coming at her again and again. She knew he was holding back, but she didn't mind. _Use whatever you have against them._ He liked her, and that was preventing him from truly fighting her. She appreciated that, knowing she stood no chance against the Winter Soldier, or even James Barnes if he really tried. He landed a hit every now and then, but she danced around him like rain, sending him sliding and stumbling, hitting air more often than substance. Dolores sensed his growing frustration which manifested in his more and more aggressive fighting patterns. He got to her more often, and eventually he had her pinned below him on the mat, his hair falling down to frame his face, his eyes glowing triumphantly. He wasn't breathing hard or sweating like she was, but she was proud anyways, that she had been able to hold him off for so long.

"Your robot has taught you well. But not well enough." She grinned at him, covering the idea that had just crept into her mind. Nessy had always been the social one, she had loved parties and people. And thus, she was the one that had taught her that a fight was never truly over until you had won, no matter how long it took and what tricks to use. She was the one that had taught her to play people like an instrument, use her empathy for learning their desires and weaknesses and play them when needed. Dolores had always hated that idea, but now it might just come in handy.

"You wouldn't have a stood a chance if I hadn't held back." Dolores let the grin fade from her face and put her gloved hand on the base of his neck, the movements coming to her more natural than she would have thought. She kept her eyes on his, capturing his gaze until she felt the shift in atmosphere.

"But you did." Her voice was quiet and raw. She let her gaze flicker to his lips and then back to his eyes while slithering her hand down his arm. She had chosen his right one on purpose, a good choice as she felt his muscles trembling under her touch. He froze as she slowly lifted her head towards his, but he didn't pull back. A pang of regret hit her as she swiftly pulled his right arm out under him and shoved her free hand onto his left shoulder, leaving him flying onto his back next to her. She wanted to finish their fight with a witty comment, but she couldn't think of one, her mind spiraling around the look in his eyes, the tense anticipation in his face. She turned her head to find him staring at the ceiling, his face once more covered with that mask of ice to hide the hurt and confusion she could sense anyway. The regret enveloped her, sealing her up with guilt. She could feel that she had hurt him and he couldn't even understand why it hurt. Slowly, she pushed herself up and rolled her body over him so that she was straddling him. His gaze shot to her, his eyes guarded against more treachery. She had pulled off one of her gloves in the move and was slowly moving her naked hand to meet the skin of his neck.

As he spotted the movement his left hand shot to her wrist, stopping her. He was hurt and confused and afraid, flooded once more with so many emotions he couldn't understand. He had allowed himself to soften and she had used it against him. He wasn't going to make the same mistake again. Dolores shifted her weight to her knees to gently hold on to his metal hand. She wasn't pulling or trying to pry his fingers off her. She tried to lay all her regret and all her guilt into her voice.

"Please," she whispered. Please don't pull away now. Please let me say sorry. Please forgive me. Please let me make it up. Please don't run. Please don't go away. She held his gaze, trying to say with her eyes all the things no words she knew of could convey. Slowly, he let go of her wrist. She concentrated on keeping the barriers in place and gently laid her hand on his cheek. She kept her breathing steady. It took everything to keep the barriers that kept his emotions at bay in place and feel his skin at the same time. His skin was rough with stubbles but soft at the same time. Her thumb wandered over his cheek and she pulled in a shaky breath at the sensation. His feelings pushed against the barriers, the serum in her wanting to tear them down, exposing him to her, but she closed her eyes. No. That was not what she wanted to do. Instead, she felt around her heart and concentrated on pouring every sensation into the touch.

Suddenly he drew a sharp breath and his gaze flickered upwards as his mind was flooded with her emotions. Dolores smiled. It had worked! She could establish the connections both ways! She managed to keep her concentration up for a few seconds, then she let him go and moved away. She didn't want to suffocate him, especially not when she had hurt him when he had been so vulnerable. She had wanted to show him the guilt she felt, how sorry she was, and how much she regretted not having the situation let go another way. She didn't quite understand that last one herself, but for now, the only thing that mattered was that he didn't pull back from her, didn't stop trusting her, didn't put up the barriers again she had had so much difficulty to climb.

She sat against one post of the boxing ring and watched him carefully. He had shut his eyes tightly, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what had just happened. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea. He was confused enough by his own feelings, maybe it had been wrong to give him hers as well. He sat up and pushed the hair out of his face with both hands before looking up at her.

"What does that mean?" His voice was quiet and raw, vulnerable, bare.

"It means I'm sorry. For hurting you, not for winning." She tried a smile, but it was all wrong so she dropped it. It shattered on the floor. "I shouldn't have done that, not on you." Dolores pulled her glove back on and was somewhat relieved at the protection. She moved so that she was sitting right in front of him, their knees almost touching. She looked down, guilt thrashing around in her heart. "Nessy taught me that. She... she was around a lot of people. Some weren't so nice, and she always said to distract opponents you couldn't defeat. Pretend to give in to them, for as long as it takes until they think they won. Then run." Her gaze flickered up and she met his eyes staring at her, staring into her soul, his expression unreadable, even to her. "I never liked the idea. But Nessy made me learn, just for the worst case. I hated it. It means hitting people where it hurts the most, and I know how to do that better than anyone else." She forced herself to look up, meet his gaze. "I abused power I have to hurt you. I am sorry about that, truly. I don't expect you to forgive that, don't worry. So many people have done that to you, and now I'm just another one." Her voice trailed off into silence, all her strength gone, unable to push that last sentence through her vocal cords. _But I hope you can give me another chance._ She tried again and again, with every breath, but she just sat there, breathing, saying nothing, staring down at her hand. She felt tears welling up inside and didn't bother keeping them down. Before the first could run over her cheek, however, she felt him take her hands. He lifted them slightly with his palms, not even really holding on to them.

"How can you understand me so well?"

"What do you mean?" Her voice was the smallest thing, cowering down beneath the air between them, fully aware of how it wasn't supposed to be there.

"I am such a mess, Hydra made such chaos out of my head. How is it that you can pick it apart so easily?" Dolores shrugged.

"I don't know." She calmed her breathing and tried to put into words what she felt whenever she looked at him. "It feels like you are a pile of shards, shattered so often that nobody can see the picture. I guess everyone is just too afraid to cut themselves. I just try to tread softly and pick up the glass. I... I don't try to put it back the way it was, it will never fit that way again and only break again." She looked at him and could almost see the glass glittering in his soul. "But I don't think the glass has to be mended. You are broken, yes but beautifully so." She tried another smile. This time it fit. It was a small one, full of _sorry_ and _please forgive me_ and _please don't go away_. An idea crossed her mind and she was both glad at the distraction and horrified at the amount of courage this would take.

"Is... Is it okay if I sleep in your room tonight again? I... I always remember my nightmares usually. But somehow, you made it go away. If you want me, that is." Now it was her turn to be vulnerable. A smile unfolded on his lips and he nodded.

"Sure." Relief shattered a grin on her face.

"I think we should get back down. I have to prepare for the press conference." That reminder of the real world looming over their heads had her sigh as she scrambled to her feet. James followed, his thoughts still racing with all the things that had happened.

...

Dolores had exchanged her cargos for a costume and her blue socks with the little dragons for black high heels. She had never been good at this fancy dress thing, and with all the female reporters in the chairs in front of her looking like they had hatched out of an egg with perfect makeup and tailored suits had her feeling way out of her league. But they weren't here to look at her, they were here to hear her opinion on the Winter Soldier.

Steve had gone first and now it was on her to consolidate the positive image of James Buchanan Barned that was floating around the room. She stepped up to the podium and adjusted the microphone, placing the notes she wouldn't look at on the little table.

"Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen. I am Doctor Dolores Mahr. I am the psychologist assigned to Mr. Barnes. I am here to answer your questions. Yes, please." She gestured at a male reporter raising his hand. It was like a class in school. Dolores breathed and tried to calm her nerves. She hated big groups like these and they all stared at her like vultures waiting for her to make one mistake so that they could tear apart her corpse.

"Why did you flee from the hospital with Barnes?" The question was less question than it was an accusation. Dolores put the smile she had shown Tony back up on her lips.

"I would like to correct your phrasing, sir. I feel it can hardly be called fleeing when the team hired to guard you turns out to be Hydra and there to kill you. Mr. Barnes left the compound because it wasn't safe there, as any normal human would have done. Hydra has destroyed his life and subjected him to torture unimaginable, it is only understandable he wouldn't want to stick around with a team of Hydra's agents out to capture or kill him." She thought of the shrapnel and bullets maybe still lodged in his body and had to suppress a shudder. The x-ray was scheduled for today after the conference. Dolores pushed the thought aside. Focus! "But to answer your question: I did not flee with Mr. Barnes. The current theory is that Hydra had a new serum to try. They tried it on their prime patient, Mr. Barnes, first, resulting in terrible headaches that lasted for most of the night as the serum clashed with his already modified DNA. Then they used the serum on me, causing me to loose consciousness. Mr. Barnes knew what Hydra would do if they got their hands on me and saved me from that by taking me with him, which I am very glad for." A new woman raised her hand. Dolores nodded in her direction.

"How reliable are your judgments really, if you believe the Winter Soldier to be safe?" Dolores ignored the subtle jab at her professional reliability and dropped the smile.

"My professional opinion is not unreliable, otherwise the UN wouldn't have agreed to have me treat Mr. Barnes. Please do not take any offense in this, but I believe that your perception of Mr. Barnes is too skew to allow yourself judgment on him. You are all here because of the escape of the Winter Soldier out of his prison. However, the Winter Soldier was a weapon of Hydra under its influence. _Mr. Barnes_ is free of Hydra, has been since Captain America has recovered him. He is not the Winter Soldier. However, Hydra still has the means to turn Mr. Barnes back into that state, thus my initiative to bring him under the protection of the Avengers. Ignoring the immense benefit to his mental health that being around people he at least is somewhat familiar with has, the Avengers are the people most likely to be able to fight back Hydra, should they decide to want the Winter Soldier back. Mr. Stark has already had cells built into the lowest level of his tower, and one of these cells has been reinforced and approved by the UN committee that has also approved the first compound. Except that this time, the guards will be tied to the UN directly. As you can see, I do not consider Mr. Barnes to be safe. He is a very unstable individual which results from his treatment by Hydra and his powers make him a threat to not only those around him but also himself. But it is logically the safest option to keep hin in Mr. Starks tower." The reporter nodded, her hand already flying over the notepad. The next reporter asked his question.

"Will you be continuing Mr. Barnes' treatment?" Dolores noticed with delight the change in address and returned to her professional smile.

"That is up to him. A successful therapy relies on an open relationship and trust by the patient in the doctor. Considering Mr. Barnes' history, it would be foolish to change doctor should he choose not to."

"What goal does the treatment have? Can he ever be normal again?" Dolores felt a certain sadness slip into her smile and she hoped the cameras wouldn't pick it up.

"No, and nobody should fall under the illusion that this is possible. Mr. Barnes has endured the torture of both mind and body beyond anything any of us will hopefully ever come close to even imagining. Such an experience cannot be forgotten and it changes the individual. He will never be who he was before, the Bucky Barnes from the Smithsonian, but I hope he will eventually be stable and recovered enough to lead a somewhat normal life, maybe even use his skills for good. But for such a recovery to be possible, a stable safe environment is essential."

"To what extent will the death of your younger sister Vanessa Mahr affect your treatment?" Dolores froze. Easy. Calm. Nessy's death was no secret. Of course, they would ask this. Dolores felt her smile freeze over and she closed her eyes for a moment to keep it from shattering. She could already hear the cracking.

"My sister's death was a tragic accident that has influenced me to take the path that has lead me to Mr. Barnes. It was a terrible experience, but it has helped me grow stronger. I have experienced at least some fraction of the turmoil Mr. Barnes must be dealing with, and, if nothing else, helping him will mean her death has not been for nothing."

Dolores noticed Stark waving at her from the back of the room. She had gotten her message across, it was now or never before the next question shattered the pressing image Steve and she had painted.

"I thank you for your attention. This conference is over." She tried to make the words sound softer than they were, but still, the room exploded into chaos and noise as she made her way backstage. Here she allowed her trembling knees to give away under her and sunk straight to the floor, not even caring about the confused looks of the people working backstage. She felt sick and breathed through her mouth to prevent herself from hurling up what little breakfast she had had. Eventually, Steve and Wanda were there and helped her up.

"Geez, you're white as chalk," Wanda muttered and lead her to the car that would bring them back to Stark Tower. Dolores managed a flimsy weak laugh and uttered a sigh of relief when the car doors closed them in.

"I don't do well with so much attention," she muttered and Wanda giggled.

"Clearly. Let's get you back home, Bucky is going mad with you not there." Dolores rolled her head to look at Wanda questioningly. "He's trying not to let it show, but he's clearly nervous." She smirked. Steve, on the other hand, was staring out the window, a small crease between his eyebrows showing the extent of his worry.

"Did you mean what you said back then? About Bucky never being normal again?" Dolores laid out her words carefully to not hurt or discourage him.

"He will never be the Bucky you knew again. But you're not the Steve he remembers either. You both have changed, just for different reasons. You have to be patient and keep in mind that this is someone new, someone different, but I'm sure you can be friends again, just as close as before. It will just take some time for both of you to learn how to handle each other. It doesn't mean your friendship is lost, it just got harder. But both of you are tougher now, you'll handle it." Wanda laughed and Steve also had to smile.

"Do any of you know when the visitors a coming in?" Wanda shrugged.

"Tony said somewhen tomorrow, he hasn't fixed a time yet."

"Okay. I guess we'll just have to see then."

They had reached Stark Tower and Dolores had never been more thankful for a private garage than now. Banner greeted them.

"You did really well, both of you. I think he'll be able to stay, with that message you sent." Dolores grinned proudly. She hated talking in front of so many people and considering the amount of pressure and what had been at stake, she felt like she had done really well. "He is up on the training floor, I think you should tell him you're back." Dolores blushed and nodded, a small smile sneaking onto her lips despite her best efforts. Steve and Banner engaged in some small talk about a hurricane the weather report had announced, but Dolores didn't really listen. Her mind was whirling around the press conference, the hundred faces that had stared at her. She could still feel their eyes touching her, groping at her every move, like fingers slithering around her body. She shivered. Banner got out in the lab to tame Stark's fury at having to lead reporters through the tower, Wanda and Steve got off at his floor to get working on an early dinner so that only Dolores was left. Friday had overheard their conversation and needed no further info on where she had to get out.

Dolores had forgotten what she was wearing until she spotted James. He was seemingly taking out his restlessness on a boxing bag but immediately turned as her loud heels announced her.

"Hey," she smiled weakly. She noticed that he hadn't used anything to protect his hands and now his knuckles were raw and bleeding. For the moment she forgot how uncomfortable she felt in her attire as her medical background took over. She stepped forward and took his hands into hers.

She had gotten so used to wearing the gloves, she even forgot to take them off for the shower, only just barely being able to save them before they got wet. Now too, she was briefly reminded of their presence as she saw them, taking his hands into hers, but her attention turned to the blood covering his hands, not caring whether it stained the fabric of the gloves.

The skin had been torn off and Dolores looked up, but he didn't seem to be feeling the pain it must be causing him. His eyes were darting over her face, trying to take in everything at once.

"Okay, how about we go down. You let me fix you up and take the x-ray before dinner, and I tell you what happened?" He nodded and followed her to the elevator. "Lab please, Friday." Friday didn't speak in the elevator unless to ask where to, that much Dolores had been able to figure out. The elevator moved and Dolores moved in front of James to protect him from Banners and Starks staring. When the door opened both of them were bent over a computer and Dolores used the chance to quickly chase James into the medbay.

Banner had just left the x-ray machine standing at the back of the room, so she didn't have to do much there. She inspected the wounds in the bright white light, but apart from missing skin and the blood, everything seemed to be fine. She cleaned the wounds and wrapped them up with the usual routines.

"This is what you should put on before boxing, not after," she noted and he chuckled. "Now, shirt off. While I have all the stuff out." He did as told and she could feel that tense calm settle over him as she began unwrapping his other wounds. He was the calm before the storm, the air already charged with the lighting to be unleashed. He didn't seem uncomfortable with her so close, his breathing even and calm, but she felt the same tension as she had when he had trapped her beneath him in training this morning.

Like she had thought last time, the wound to his abdomen was healed far enough to not need a bandage anymore. Same with the graze at his shoulder. She put a new bandage over the newest shot wound for good measure and also because she liked the way his skin felt under her hands. She made the mental note to practice keeping the barrier up so that she could don the gloves here and there. It had worked instinctively with Steve, but he didn't cause her mind to hotwire the way James did. She'd have to practice so that concentrating wouldn't take up so much of her mind.

"Okay. All done. Now lie down there. It'll be a bit loud and it will take a few minutes. I'll be right here where you can see me, most of the time." James nodded, more relaxed than she would have guessed. He didn't bother getting his shirt back on. She was keeping an eye on the machine who fed the data to one of Stark's fancy tablets, making sure everything was working fine. It was redundant caution, seeing as the machine was almost brand new, but it was a habit she wasn't going to break. She could feel James' eyes on her reminding her once more of the stupid pretentious clothes she was wearing, but it wasn't enough discomfort to break her mistrust in the machine.

"So the conference was a success, at least that's what Banner said," she started over the soft hum of the machine. "Steve went first, he told some really sweet stories of how you took care of him before and during the war. I went second and they asked me questions, like how dangerous you would be, and how reliable my judgment was. They were quite nice actually. I said some things about you, so maybe you want to look it up later. Friday can show you." James didn't respond as she had told him not to move during the scan, and Dolores didn't really need an answer. It was up to him anyway.

When the scan was done, she gestured James that he was free to move and went to get the tablet. Friday informed them that dinner is ready and Dolores grabbed the tablet, wanting to scan the pictures after dinner. They walked past Stark and Banner who had moved location but were still in the same position as before and rode the elevator up to Steve's floor. Vision was joining them through the window.

"I don't think the other two are coming, I don't think they even heard Friday."

"More room for us." Wanda put a huge bowl with Spaghetti Carbonara on the table and the food seemed to draw everyone in. James seemed more comfortable with fewer people there, although he still kept his distance from Wanda and Vision. Dolores made a mental note to ask him about his eating pattern when he didn't touch the food. She assumed he had eaten after she had left for the conference as a way to calm his nerves. Despite his initial urge to leave, the idea of being made to leave the tower seemed to make him nervous.

"Damn, you can cook," Dolores muffled through her spaghetti and Steve locked his gaze on his own plate, flustered by the unexpected compliment. "You should open a request board," she decided after swallowing. She pointed at the wall next to the fridge and squinted her eyes to imagine a whiteboard. "You put up a whiteboard right there and assign everyone in the tower a color. We put up our cravings and depending on who you like and who's in your Blackbook, you choose what to cook. Like that, you wouldn't have to worry about what to make, just who to offend." Steve pulled a skeptical eyebrow but Wanda was grinning and even Vision and James were smiling at the idea. Visons expression froze for a moment and his gaze drifted off, then the smile returned to his face.

"Your pledge to keep Mr. Barnes here has been taken rather positively by the public. They think you have given in to their wishes with the compound at your hospital, and now that it has failed, they appreciate your respect for their concerns while moving him to a more favorable location. Some are even asking why he wasn't moved there immediately. Very well done for someone with mild social anxiety." Dolores froze mid bite and swallowed without taking her eyes of Vison.

"How..." He looked at her apologetically.

"I am sorry. But reporters dig deep to find ugly truths." Dolores nodded and turned her attention back to her food. She wasn't worried about anyone finding out about more Nessy, her mom or her dad, but the thought of someone poking around her past made her uncomfortable. Wanda reported on her advancements in fine motor manipulations with her magic and Dolores was happy to listen to her and drift off into her own thoughts every now and then. She felt James' concerned gaze and tried to participate in the rest of the dinner for his sake.

When they were done and had saved the rest of the noodles in the fridge for Banner and Stark, Wanda shooed them off to clean the kitchen with Vision, so Steve, James and Dolores went up to the training floor. Steve and James fought each other and Dolores kept practicing with her knives. She was growing to have a decent aim and she knew the anatomy of her knives inside out by now, handling them with as much confidence as her paintbrushes. She had picked her favorite, a knife where the blade and hilt were one unit, made all out of the same folded steel, and now she was flipping it in her hands while absentmindedly watching the violent dance between Steve and James. She was trying to pick up their moves, not to imitate them, but constantly imagining herself blocking them, evading. She knew she had no chance ever beating them strength wise, but as they swung to hit, missing always put them off balance. She'd just have to work on being quick. She flung the knife she had been flipping at the target a few meters from her. She hit the outmost circle. Taking up the next knife, she watched James roll under one of Steve's punches and spun the blade on her fingers, watching the reflections of the light above in the metal. She had gotten special combat and throwing knives, wanting to avoid working with just normal kitchen knives. She couldn't touch those things, not anymore. Dolores shuddered at the image that she just couldn't force out of her head. She looked at the blade in her hand but her brain wasn't processing the Intel her eyes were giving her, it was stuck, clinging to the memory like a child to its mother's dead body. The horror and the disbelief and the shock she had felt that day slammed into her and left her breathless, gagging for the least bit of oxygen to keep her alive, to enable her to turn away. But there was nothing, all air seemed to have fled, the picture burned into her mind.

She dropped the knife and fled from the room. She knew the effect that memory had on her and she wasn't going to let James or Steve see her cry. She was sick of crying and of being comforted and of having to hide from others how much her own thoughts hurt her. Without looking back to see whether Steve or James had noticed, Dolores rushed to the elevator, punching the button for the highest floor. She needed air and she needed to be alone NOW! Her mind was racing and she felt like her heart was going to explode in her chest, pierce itself on her ribs and tear her lungs with them. She couldn't get the blood out of her head, the hair, the opened torn skin. Most of all, she couldn't get that stare out of her mind. Those torn open eyes burning themselves into her skull, leaving their marks on the bone. She drew a ragged breath and her lungs couldn't process the air, couldn't take in the oxygen. She steadied herself on the bar that was let into the metal wall of the elevator and stumbled onto the helicopter landing pad when the doors opened.

The concrete met her indifferently and grey and she just lay there for a while, letting the wind rip into her hair. When she got up, the wind tore away her breath from her mouth and she felt like the cold air was searing into her body, punching out her stomach and freezing her brain, freezing that picture in her brain.

She could feel warm tears on her cheeks. Strange. She didn't feel like crying. She didn't feel like anything. All she felt was her soul being torn apart, shredded into pieces, burnt and frozen over. She felt again that pain of half her soul being torn away. _Why the fuck did you have to die?!_ The sentence burned her mind, frying her cells and scorching her skull until the pain was too much to keep inside.

"Why the fuck did you die?!" The shrill words were ripped from her lips by the wind and the incoming rain covered her tears.

"How could you just leave me?!" Her voice was broken by sobs and tears and it was shrill and sharp with anger, but she didn't care. Shure, she understood, she always understood, but that didn't mean she wasn't fucking angry. She had understood for so long, had accepted for so long, had kept that vile dark fury inside her all that time.

"How could you do that to me?! You fucking knew what you left me with, what you were! How could you bloody dare to just leave my alone?!" She didn't care if her words were black, roaring with the fire of her anger. Nessy was gone! She wouldn't feel the pain of the blades spewing out of her mouth.

"No, you were so broken, so sad, so _fucking, bloody alone!_ " Her legs were shaking under her as the storm just continued, roaring around her, indifferent to her pain, to the blood dripping from her soul, to her anger, to Nessy's betrayal. To her death.

"Did you ever think about me? How much of me was you?" Her voice was small and the wind whipped the words away with such ease, Dolores wasn't sure whether anyone would hear.

"How could you fucking leave! You fucking asshole!" Her voice had broken, her vocal cords fell over the words and they choked her, a rope of anger, sobs and tight wind winding around her neck. But Dolores didn't care. A wild scream broke from her throat, robbing her of the last oxygen she had. The wind tore at her, so fucking indifferent, not caring whether she broke or stood strong, whether Nessy was dead or alive. It was ripping at her clothes, hair, mouth, eyes, tears, breath, searing it away from her with a hundred kilometers per hour, not caring whether she stood there or not, if it was her who was dead or Nessy.

"Okay! _Fucking take me then!_ " And for a moment she was glad when the air kicked her in the back, left her stumbling and scraping her hands open in half-hearted attempts to stay rooted on the roof. She would be gone. Her body would shatter on the ground, the glass inside her cutting her open, piercing her from the inside out, so much of it that not even the great Doctor Strange would be able to tell what was what. And she would be freed of all, of the bloody secrets, the pain, the nightmares and the constant fucking restraint. She would be gone, nothing to remind of her but a blood splatter on the sidewalk. No more Hydra, no more Avengers, no more Nessy. Nothing.

Only rain scraped her face as she was pushed towards the border of the pad. Her tears were dried, her mind already in peaceful oblivion. _I'm coming after you. You're not leaving me alone._

A hand grabbed her, just as her feet felt sweet nothingness beneath them. A warm strong hand grabbed her arm so hard she thought it might snap. Dolores didn't care. Her body was limp, her mind gone. What did she care? Nessy was gone and nobody cared about that. What would they care about her?

She heard screeching of metal against concrete and then she suddenly yanked to a halt. The sound was painful to her ears, but she didn't make and effort to evade it. The wind had torn all power from her, she was nothing but a hull with a lazily beating heart. She didn't care, struggle or help when she was pulled back on the pad. When a warm and a cold arm wrapped around her and carried her back into the tower. None of that touched her cold soul. It was the warmth that hit her. The warmth of James' body. Of the room. Of her own fucking beating heart. She started shivering, her survival mechanisms finally catching up to what her mind had had her body do. Now the tears came, soaking his shirt, her whole body shivering so much she wondered how he managed to hold her, maneuver her into the elevator and into her room. _She could have died._ If James hadn't come after her, she would have fallen to her death.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice nothing like the rest of her. But Nessy wasn't there to care. Dolores could feel the dread, the mortified horror at having done something so stupid, but Nessy wasn't there to scream at her and crush her in a terrified hug. Nessy was gone, she couldn't hear her breathed apology. Only James was there to hear.

"That was really dangerous." Dolores could only nod, hot tears running over her face as he held her close, sitting on her bed. She knew she shouldn't be doing this. She should get up, smile at him and apologize again. Tell him he'd saved her life and get him out of the room to take a hot shower, to take care of her body. But right now, she didn't have the strength. Her muscles couldn't move, let alone her soul. She wasn't ready to pick herself up again, mend herself for another day. She curled up tighter, hearing the glass in her crunch. She cuddled closer to his warmth, not caring what any of this would mean. For now, his warmth was home. His arms holding her, keeping her from falling apart, were her world. She closed her eyes and listened to his breathing, his heartbeat, the soft sounds his left arm made.

"You scared me there Dot." His voice was nothing but a whisper, not breaking the silence but part of it. It weaved into the warmth, surrounded her and quivered as it wrapped itself around her, not quite believing she was there, safe in his arms. "For a second, I thought I wouldn't catch you." The pain and terror in his voice had her wrapping her arms around him, her hands gripping tightly onto his shirt to assure him that she really was there. She hadn't fallen. He had saved her. She winced as the pain from her raw hands hit her. Immediately James stiffened, afraid he had hurt her. His grip around her loosened and his eyes raced over her body, searching for the injury. The throbbing in her hand drove tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away, glad that her medical background was taking over, keeping it together.

"Shit," James cursed as he saw her torn skin and the blood soaking her gloves. Dolores was amazed at how calm her voice was.

"Get the backpack and open the middle section, all the way." James carefully shifted to set her down on a chair, then he raced off to the other side of the room to get the bag, tearing it open to reveal the medical supplies she had thankfully stocked up. She could tell he was trying to seem calm and collected, but his eyes were screaming in panic, not knowing what to do, how to help her. But it didn't get to her. She was numb again. Not numb like before but the kind of numbness that came with a white coat.

"Okay. Second pillbox to the left, lowest row. Get me one of those and a glass of water." His fingers moved fast, but not with their usual precision, frantic, shaking. He pulled out the box and tore it open scattering its contents all over the backpack and the floor.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, hoping she wouldn't hear.

"James," she said his name softly, immediately pulling his attention to her. She looked into his eyes, wanting to make sure he would understand. "It's okay. It's nothing big. I just can't patch it up right now." She motioned to her bleeding hands. "If it was anything critical, I wouldn't let you help me," she smiled softly. He breathed and nodded. His moves were still fast, but his hands were somewhat steady, and he seemed less panicky. He took one of the scattered pills and the glass of water from last night on her nightstand. Not able to move her hands, Dolores offered her mouth, swallowing the pill quickly, before he could spill the water everywhere.

"Sorry," he mumbled after knocking the rest of the water over the floor. It wasn't too much though, and Dolores smiled at him, trying to calm him down.

"It's okay. That was pain medication, in half an hour I won't be feeling any pain anymore." That thought seemed to reassure him somewhat. "Now, there are some scissors in there. Grab those for me and cut the gloves off." He looked at her in surprise. "They have to be out of the way, and I'll have to get new ones anyway." He got the scissors and was almost adorably overcautious maneuvering the rounded scissors around her hands. The fabric fell away from her hands and he made a point to only touch her with his left hand from then on until he had found some plastic gloves.

"Good, thanks. Now we need to clean the wound and get all the blood out of the way. There is an antibacterial spray in there, somewhere on the lower end, to the right," she retraced the position of the spray. He took it out. "Exactly that one. Spray it on my hands and dab whatever runs off away with a gauze. That's those square packages over there." He ripped open the gauze and froze when she winced at the contact of the alcohol with her raw flesh. She just smiled and nodded at him reassuringly, but he just stared at the spray skeptically.

"It's alcohol, it will sting a bit. But it's essential to prevent infection. That little sting will save me a lot of pain later on." He knew all of it, but that wasn't the point of her explanation. Sure, she was feeling the pain, but it was normal to have the person applying first aid panicking. The soft sound of her voice gave him something to lock his concentration on, to calm him. She could let him know how effective he was like that. If she could talk softly, the pain couldn't be so bad.

He used the spray generously, cleaning away any splitters of concrete and other dirt, as well as the blood until the wound was clean.

"Perfect. You're really good at this, I barely felt anything." It was only half a lie. Of course, she had felt the pain, but his touch had been a butterflies wing. "Now cut open one of those round bandages. No, the one above. Right, those. They have a sterile gauze already in them, those don't stick as bad. Now put them on the wound and wrap the bandage around the back of my hands." His hands worked smoothly now, wrapping her up until her hands looked like his. Somehow, her fingers had mostly stayed unharmed, three plasters per hand doing the job of patching up the little scratches.

Only now, when the white of the bandages blended into her own skin, did she allow herself to shiver. She had been cold the whole time, but it would have made James only more panicky if he had felt time pressure. But now there was not hiding it anymore. Her clothes were clinging to her, the fancy suit probably ruined by the rain. Her hair was wrapping her skull like a mummies bandage and had her teeth chattering.

"You need warmth," James stated and she could only smile. No shit. He helped her up and lead her to the bathroom. There he pushed her down onto the marble table enclosing the sink. Then he began unbuttoning the jacket. Dolores felt the heat rising to her cheeks, that little that her body had left. She told herself it was nothing. She couldn't use her hands, or at least his concern wouldn't let her, and she needed the warmth. He was only following standard first aid procedure. But no matter what logical reasons she told herself, it didn't feel like nothing. He had put on a plastic glove over his right hand after cutting off her gloves and still his touch sent fire through her body. He brushed off her jacket, undoing every button to get her hands as painless as possible through the sleeves, but there was no danger of that. His touch was the only thing she felt. After brushing off her jacket, he followed the same procedure with her shirt. She felt her breathing wanting to race away, chase off, leaving her with no oxygen, but she forced herself to stay calm. But what she could do to her body, was impossible to do to her mind. Was he really as calm as he seemed? Did her exposed body have any effect on him? Did she want it to have? What bra did she put on? Why the fuck was she thinking this? Heavens help, what the hell was happening to her mind?!

He brushed off the shirt and draped a towel over her shoulders. The warmth of the fabric was astonishing and Dolores sighed into it. Then, with the same concentrated expressionless face, he went to undo her pants. _I'm going to die._

 _..._

Somehow, she didn't. Now she was lying tucked into her bed under two blankets, a towel around her wet hair. The shivering was slowly wearing off and after assuring him for the hundredth or so time that the pain meds had kicked in, James got up to leave. But Dolores didn't want him to leave. She hid her face and wondered how she had the courage to scream at a hurricane but couldn't get her voice to sound normal.

"James?" He spun around, alert to whatever he had missed. "Can you stay?" He didn't smile, but Dolores could see the tension melt away from his shoulders. And something else, something she couldn't spot. "For the nightmares," she offered, although she knew the reason was a different one. He moved to the armchairs, but she quickly pointed at the other side of the bed. He hesitated and she pouted, which made him laugh quietly. She liked his laugh. It made her feel like she had managed to convince him of something he had wanted to anyways. He climbed onto the bed next to her. For a second Dolores resisted the urge to shuffle closer to him, but eventually, she did it anyways, ignoring the happy surprise on his face. She had almost died by falling off Stark Tower, to hell with it. Tonight she didn't give a shit. She moved so that her head was on his lap, forcing him to drape his arm over her. He had gotten her into a new black shirt with long sleeves and the warmth seeping through the fabric was a whole different kind of heaven. Her eyelids were lead and she fell asleep much sooner than she would have liked.


	20. Chapter 20

Day 9, 20:57

Bucky let his head fall against the headboard, trying to get a grip on the chaos inside of him. Dot breathing under him wasn't helping much with the chaos, but the steady movement of her chest calmed him, making it at least somewhat easier to sift through the mess today had been. The image of her naked skin under his fingers countered that comfort completely though and sent his heart and mind spiraling away. He decided to push it away. He'd leave it for later. Start at the beginning.

Fighting with Dot had been fun. She had moved in a way he had never seen before and he had felt strangely proud when it had taken him so long to take her down. And now, after a few hours, he had to admit how genius her tactics after that had been. He had felt how much she regretted using them and the hate at herself that had tortured her, but it had been perfect. She had spotted what he wanted and he distracted him perfectly. His thoughts skidded to a halt. What he wanted? He looked down at her, his mind fretting in panic. _No!_ Sure, he liked her presence and her touch, but that didn't mean... What _did_ it mean? He liked her, he knew that much. He had never felt like this about any other person, which made sense since most other people he knew had either tortured, frozen or forced him to kill. Those he was living with excluded. But still, even Steve, whom he liked most of all the others, he didn't even let Steve that close. His thoughts were drowning in feelings and emotions he didn't know, couldn't control, and he felt panic rising from his gut.

He remembered what Dot had said the last time he had felt like this. What do you want? Okay... what did he want? He looked down at her peaceful sleeping face. The answer felt so natural. And somehow, it didn't scare him. He wanted to be around her, with her trusting him. He wanted to hear her voice, listen to her speak, watch her fight and laugh with the young one and be mad at Stark. Maybe be part of that, though he wasn't sure whether he could, or if she even wanted that. For now, he'd be happy to just be around her and watch. Just like now. He didn't notice the smile steal itself onto his lips. Yeah, he could settle with that. He could handle that.

His mind was easier when he returned to his recap of the day. That shit really worked well. Okay. A pale shadow of the uneasiness he had felt after Dot had left drifted over the smile and he felt it slip off his face. He had tried to relieve his anxiety about the press conference through training. Contrary to what Dot had thought, he had used protection at first, but the movement hadn't been enough. So he had removed it to feel the pain. It was something familiar, something he knew how to handle. Nothing like the weird uneasiness that had settled in his gut when Dot had left for the conference.

He didn't like not having her around, and he had almost given in to watch the TV broadcast of the conference, but thankfully, his restlessness had gotten the better of him and he had fled to the training floor. He wasn't sure whether she wanted him to watch, and he wasn't going to until she told him whether he should. He knew it was an act, a show for the press, and he wasn't going to watch it until he knew how much of it was true. She had asked him to watch it and he wondered whether he should now. But he didn't want to wake up Dot, so he decided against it. He could watch it tomorrow when he had some time alone.

As he looked back down to her, he almost automatically moved his hand to softly brush a loose strand of fiery hair away from her cheek. That strange feeling from earlier when she had walked in on him all dressed up came back. It was as if his heart was fluttering, and he had panicked at first, but now he noticed how weirdly nice it felt. She had been beautiful in the suit. Even more so than usual. He could tell she wasn't comfortable in it, but that didn't make her look less stunning. It had taken him everything to keep his breathing even and not let the racing of his heart show while she had inspected his wounds in the lab. He still felt the touch of her hands on his chest and shoulder and arm and everywhere. Even now it had his heart skipping a beat and he leaned back and closed his eyes to get back a grip on his body.

He had never felt all these effects her presence were having on him and at first, they had terrified him. Bucky knew the feeling of losing control over his body, it had happened with Hydra too many times to count or remember, but this was somehow different. It wasn't bad, it didn't hurt. It felt strange, but it was nice. The assassin at the back of his mind had him questioning the reliability of his emotions, knowing only too well how easily those could be manipulated with drugs and the like, but that didn't change the little skip his heart did whenever she smiled and the way he could only focus on her whenever she was in the room.

Dot shifted underneath his hand so that now her whole body was aligned with his legs. Bucky sighed happily. He had already decided that he wasn't going to sleep tonight, training today had proven that he could still go a few days without. But staying awake had just proven to be a lot easier than he had expected, with his heart racing like that.

Dolores woke up with a headache. For a second she froze in panic, but when she felt for the pain, it was different from her migraines. It was more a dull ache and she remembered last night. It must have been the adrenaline mixed with the dehydration that was giving her shit now. Also, the pain meds had worn off and the sharp pulsing from her hands added to the headache. She still couldn't help but smile when she opened her eyes to find him watching her.

"Any nightmares," he asked, his voice soft from a night of silence. She shook her head.

"Not even dreams."

"And how are you feeling?" There was still that shadow of yesterday's terror in his voice.

"Better. I... yesterday was just a lot. I hate talking in front of so many people. And then they asked something about Nessy, and I thought it was fine, you know, I was all calm and could answer the question fine. And I thought I was okay, it was okay until we went upstairs after dinner. I just suddenly had that picture in my head, and I couldn't lose it." She looked up to see whether she should continue, not sure whether he wanted to listen to her whining about. But his gaze was fixed on her, soaking up every word. "I was the one who found her, you know." She shuddered as the image returned and she felt panic taking hold of her. But James kept her there, his metal hand drawing soothing cold circles on her shoulder, keeping her where she was. "She was lying on the floor. The kitchen was a mess, and the police later said that was because she wanted to find something to stop the bleeding, but she'd done it on purpose. She had arranged everything and then lied down on the floor and slit open her wrists." James drew her closer and Dolores leaned against his chest, thankful for the support his warm steady breathing gave her. "Sometimes that image will just pop up and it won't go away. I'm really sorry I scared you like that." At that, he wrapped both arms around her and held her there, as if wanting to make sure she was really still here, with him. He too was flashing through his fear last night and it had his arms tensing around her. Silence enveloped them and Dolores needed several tries to break it.

"I've never told this anyone," she whispered, hoping her voice would drown in his shirt. "Sorry for throwing all this shit at you. Not like you have your own to carry." At that he let her go, just a little, to look at her.

"I don't mind. I'm just happy you are still here. How are your hands?" Dolores looked down at the white bandages, her heart fluttering.

"The pain meds wore off. And I need some water." Immediately after the words had left her mouth she wished she wouldn't have said them as he snaked out of her grasp and got up to go over to the backpack. He came back with another white little pill and a bottle of water, but he sat further away, keeping his distance as she drowned the pill and emptied the bottle without setting it down. The throbbing in her head ceased, and she knew the pain in her hands would eventually follow.

They both sunk into their thoughts, the sun rising behind the last remaining clouds above New York, lazily opening the morning over the storm-ridden city. Dolores could imagine the horror scenarios the news were painting, but for now, she didn't care. She was happy just lying there, soaking up his warmth into her, enjoying how close he was. Her heart was calm and tracing the shapes of the scars and veins on his hands seemed natural, not like anything forbidden or unusual. She didn't have to think how her contact would affect him, the plaster on her fingertip keeping her skin from his. Dolores lost all feeling for time, it could have been hours or mere minutes when his voice gently broke the silence.

"Is it bad that I like being here like this? With you being the doctor and all?" Dolores' mind was slow to pick up the meaning of the words, but she sensed the uncertainty of the questions, quivering in the air. She thought about it for a while, her mind slowed down by the morning daze. Sure, this was definitely not the normal or intended patient-doctor relationship, but that wasn't bad.

"No. The whole point of therapy it to enable a comfortable life. Help with fears, traumas, whatever the problem is to make it possible for the person to live an at least somewhat normal life. However unusual and chaotic all of this may be, it seems to be helping you, so that's fine. And... you're not just some other patient I need to treat and then replace with the next. There's not going to be a next patient. So I can take however long you need. There's not really anything for me to come back to."

"Sorry," he whispered and she was surprised at the guilt in his voice.

"Don't be. I don't mind. The way it's now is much better anyway." She smiled up at him, marveling the truth of the sentence. Somehow, even through all this mess, it was better. Slightly confused, James looked down at her.

"You had to leave your home and your job and everything you knew behind, Hydra got its hands on you and now you're stuck here in this tower. How is that better than a normal life?"

"It's hard to explain. I... I wasn't really living before Stark dragged me into this. I was just moving on from day to day. Now it's different, now I feel like I'm actually doing something. I'm alive, living, not just breathing. It hasn't been this way since Nessy died. We were living together and after she was gone, I was just there, kind of not doing anything. It's weird." To her surprise, James shook his head, his gaze thoughtfully tracing the skyline.

"No. No, I know what you mean. After Hydra fell, it was the same. I... I guess I was trying to get some memories back. But now I know that I was just sort of floating. Now I feel like I'm moving again."

"That's good, really. I guess we'll just move together then." She cuddled back into his left arms embrace. Maybe, just maybe, she would be able to tell him. All of it. Maybe, just maybe, she could show him what had happened to her. Maybe he wouldn't run, wouldn't turn away. She already scolded herself for being so selfish, already thinking of her own benefit over his. But still. The hope was there. Maybe, he would heal her, if she could mend him first.

That thought chased the last of the morning's haze away and left her burning to do something. She rolled over so she could reach the nightstand and got the tablet she hadn't had a chance to look at yesterday. She looked back to him to find him watching her every move.

"Breakfast?" He seemed to contemplate it before shrugging his shoulders. "That's a yes." Dolores swung out of the bed. She tried to pull the shirt she was wearing a bit lower, but there was no covering her lack of pants. She quickly pulled on some cargos, loving how the tablet, the notepad, and the pen all fully disappeared in the pockets. She quickly tied her hair up to hide the mess it was, then she turned to James. He had already gotten up and was now following her into the kitchen.

Nat was already leaning against the counter sipping at a cup of what Dolores discovered to be hot chocolate with marshmallows. She turned to the coffee machine after making sure James wouldn't be making a run for it. He had settled in one of the armchairs in the living area of the room. She busied herself with making coffee, successfully ignoring Nat's stares.

"And, how'd you sleep after yesterday?" Dolores noted the broad meaning of the word "yesterday".

"Quite good actually. It was really nerve-wracking but I managed to sleep quite well actually." That wasn't wrong. "You?"

"The hurricane kept me up almost all night. It was over at like two, I got some sleep after that." Dolores nodded and took up her and James' coffee cup.

"What the hell happened to your hands?" Nat noticed the white bandages.

"Training accident. Nothing spectacular, just carelessness at the wrong moment." Again, not a complete lie.

"Be more careful then. You're no use without hands." Dolores looked at her skeptically and Nat smirked. "Just some advice." Then she took her cup and left for the elevator, probably back down to the lab, leaving her and James once alone again. That seemed to happen often, but Dolores didn't really mind. She liked Wanda and Nat, she loved their company and everyone else's too, minus Stark, but she had never been too comfortable with this social stuff. She liked it, but it exhausted her. But somehow not with James.

Dolores sat down on the couch next to the armchair he was sitting in and set down the mugs on the table. His head shot around, much more intently and rapidly than usual. She tensed. Something was wrong.

"James?" He flinched at the sound of her voice, but his eyes didn't find her. They darted around the room without focusing on anything, his head and hands twitching at every sound. Her mind was racing, but nothing was visible. He was tense, his face pale, his eyes never focusing. His breathing was rapid, his fingers clawing into the chair.

Panik dug its long sharp claws into her soul. Easy girl. Okay, what did she have? He couldn't see, his eyes didn't focus. And he flinched at sound. _Calm girl, calm down._ She softly put her hand on his right arm, just barely touching him. He almost freaked out, jerking away from her movement. Then, when the surprise ebbed away to reveal the panic from before, he let her touch her. She held on to his arm, putting her other hand on his left arm, just to let him know where she was, enabling him to locate her. When she spoke, she kept her voice to a soft whisper, the air from her lungs brushing her vocal cords like a butterflies wings, drawing her words in the air with ink so diluted with water it barely cast a shadow on the paper of silence that hung between them.

"I'm here, James. Nat is gone, it's just the two of us here. Can you tell me what's wrong? You don't have to answer if you can't." She waited for a second, but he didn't answer, didn't move, just barely breathed. "Okay. You have no open wounds or any other detectable injury. All I can tell is that you can't see and seem to be oversensitive to sound. Can you move your fingers? Just do if you can." For a few seconds there was nothing, then his left hand twitched. "Okay, that's good. Movement is yes. Have you had this before?"

Yes.

"Will it go away on its own?"

Yes.

"In under an hour?"

Yes.

"Thirty minutes?"

Yes.

"Fifteen?"

Silence.

"Will it help if I keep talking?"

Silence.

"Okay. I'll stay here though."

Yes.

Dolores smiled and shifted her legs under her into a more comfortable position, making sure her hands never left his arm. He flinched at the sound of the rustling fabrics and Dolores had to bite her tongue to not say sorry. Instead, she started caressing his right hand, moving her fingers slowly to not create any sudden sounds.

Even without touching him, she could tell he was uncomfortable. He hated being so vulnerable and having her see him as such. Yet another fault, yet another thing Hydra had done, and she had to see it, see all the glass shards he had tried to hide.

But Dolores didn't mind. Just another piece of information, another thing she might be able to help him with. But what was that? There was nothing she knew of that fitted his symptoms. She pulled out her phone and went to one of the medical websites she knew, always keeping her other hand on his right one. She looked through the tabs describing hyperactivity of senses, skimming the technical terms with a trained eye. Nothing seemed to fit. She scrolled down, the fingers of her other hand moving absentmindedly stroking his skin through the fabric of his shirt. When she reached a lengthy account of a paramedic from Nigeria, she paused, her attention drawn further and further into the account of people suffering from severe starvation over a long period of time.

After reading the account, Dolores' heart was racing. Despite the horrific implications of the idea, it was the most accurate description of James' symptoms she could find. Her fingers flew over the screen until she reached the website with information she was looking for. While she was flying over the article, looking for the information she needed, James moved. He shifted under her hand and Dolores looked up. He let out a quiet groan and dropped his head into hands, his fingers sifting through his hair. When he looked up, his gaze betrayed his uncertainty. Dolores inspected every part of his face to catch any signs that something was still wrong, but, just like the account as described, after about half an hour, the attack was over.

"It's gone?" He nodded and drew breath, but Dolores interrupted him. "When was the last time you ate?" She had assumed that he had eaten when she wasn't around, but apparently, she had been wrong. His brows furrowed at the sudden question, but her tone demanded an answer.

"The day you made breakfast in the cell, I think." Shit. That had been a week ago. Seven fucking days.

"No. You barely ate anything. Before that. When did you have your last proper meal?" Her voice was hard and demanding and he shrunk away at the sudden sharpness of it as if having cut himself on her fear.

"Then the day before they captured be. I tried making food, I had that," he murmured. Dolores had seen photos of the place he had staying at in Romania, had seen his attempts at rebuilding his life. She cursed under her breath and jumped up. She walked straight to the fridge, praying everything she needed was there. Some god up there didn't seem to hate her, the fridge was full. Apparently, it was Wanda's turn to make dinner tonight.

"Friday, tell Wanda what I'm taking from her fridge, send her a list. It's an emergency. And you," she veered around to James who was getting up to join her in the kitchen. "You stay put. Don't fucking dare to move. Drink your coffee." Stunned and alarmed by her sudden commanding voice, James sunk back into the chair. Dolores spun back to the kitchen, flipping through the cupboards until she found sugar. She poured some new hot coffee into the biggest mug she could find and added too much sugar. She strode over to James and exchanged his empty mug with her bigger full one. James clung on to his mug, not understanding what was going on or why she seemed to be so angry, but she wrenched it out of his hand, giving him the bigger one.

"I already had some," he pointed out, his voice soft. Again he spoke to her like a wounded animal, trying to calm her, tense in case she might attack.

"Drink," was all she said, before spinning back around. She skimmed through the fruit bowl Nat had Wanda had arranged, picking out several, tossing them rather carelessly onto the counter. She tore out the mixer and hastily prepped the fruits before throwing them in. As soon as the mixer was roaring she turned to the fridge, pulling out items seemingly at random. Until James stopped her, the mug left on the table.

"What the hell! I thought I told you not to move!"

"What is going on?" Worry and fear threaded through his voice and infuriated her even more.

"Don't do that. I know what you're trying, but I'm not going to let you." Even more confusion scattered over his face.

"Let me do what?"

"Let you starve yourself to death." She made sure her anger masked her fear and her own puzzlement. He had just told her that he liked being around her, why the hell was he doing this to himself? She had figured he'd have suicidal thoughts, it had been a surprise he hadn't shown any earlier, but she had thought she might have changed his mind. Yet the confusion on his face didn't fit. Was he surprised she had found out? With her skills, he should have expected her to.

"Starve?"

"That is what you're doing, isn't it?!" James stepped back, shaking his head as if to get all those thoughts out of his mind.

"No! No, why would I?" He looked at her, the question a plea for answers. She could read the unspoken words in it as if he had painted them into the air. _Why would I leave you?_ A thought began to dawn on her and her anger vanished, replaced by subtle dread.

"You haven't eaten in over a month, James! Steve found you good forty days ago. I get you want to be out of here, but I won't let you do it like this. Now drink the bloody coffee," she hissed. James shrank back.

"I... Dot, please, what is going on? I don't want to leave, I came back. I'm not starving, I'm fine." Dolores spun back from the cupboards with the glasses, but her rant got stuck in her throat and her anger vanished when she saw the hurt and confusion in his eyes. She set the glass down and took a step towards him, squinting her eyes to be sure she wasn't seeing this wrong.

"You're fine?" Her voice was soft, the fire of her anger having burnt all its strength. He tried a reassuring smile and nodded. "You're not hungry? Not in pain?" He shook his head, still smiling. Dolores' knees gave away under her and she slid down to the floor, her thoughts racing and frozen.

Of course. It made only sense. Hunger was a distracting sensation, the body's scream to survive. And why risk the soldier eating something that might trigger memories when you could make sure he only ate what you gave him. James kneeled down in front of her, drawing breath to speak his worry.

"These episodes, you've had them earlier?" He nodded, ignoring that she'd interrupted him.

"I remember having some with Hydra, and after Steve found me. They're normal, why?" Dolores gasped. They're normal. The words felt like a blow to the stomach.

"Bastards," she cursed under her breath, getting up to continue filling the fruit mix into the glass. She handed it to him and sat back down, getting the sugared coffee as well. "You are starving. These episodes, they are rare symptoms of long term extreme starvation. Your body is prepared for danger, it's used to fighting. So when you tense, it pours all its remaining strength into whatever might keep you alive. I'm guessing something about the serum is keeping your muscle mass up, you should be suffering from some organ decrease by now. They took away your ability to feel hunger, so they had to make sure you made it long enough without eating. Drink." As shocked as she had been at the realization, as calm was he. James took the mug and drank, pulling a face at the sweetness.

"Urgh." She smiled apologetically.

"Your body needs the sugar." He nodded but exchanged the mug for the glass.

"But why would they do that?"

"Less chance of you getting poisoned by food." Her voice was bitter. She hated what Hydra had done to him and she hated that he was so calm about it. It was just another scar, just another way in which they had broken him, one of too many to count. "Also less chance of you eating something familiar that might trigger memories. Also, hunger distracts. It's your body screaming at you to fuel it, not too helpful when you need to concentrate." James peered into the now half empty glass thoughtfully, then nodded.

"Makes sense. Is there something you can do about that?" Dolores winced at how completely not shocked he was about this discovery. Hydra messed with my brain and body to make sure I starve without them and I won't even know why, sure, what's next. She shook her head.

"I don't know. I have to do some research, though I'm not really sure whether there's anything to be done. Best we can do for now is hope it's subconscious and pray it's just another habit of your brain that can be broken. Meanwhile, you eat! With us. Every dinner and you have breakfast, at least. One coffee or tea doesn't matter, one full plate of breakfast and one for dinner. And lay off the training for a week, minimum. Your body needs to recover some nutrients and vitamins at least, no use if you burn them by punching the shit out of Steve." James chuckled and emptied the glass.

"Okay, doctors orders. What would you have me do instead?"

"Draw." The word blurted out of her, the first thought that popped into her head.

"I can't draw."

"Everyone can learn to. But if you don't want to, read. You can read up on some history, maybe even your own. You could learn a new language, or teach me one of yours. Anything that doesn't require you to move." He looked at the mug with the sugared coffee for a while.

"What language would you want to learn?" Dolores hid her surprise as his choice and thought about the languages he had told her he spoke in the Vault.

"Russian, I think. I already speak Spanish, I never cared for French and I have an aunt somewhere in Romania. Yeah, teach me Russian." James smiled, and Dolores dreaded the heat the glowed from her core. What the hell had she gotten herself into here? Languages, especially foreign ones, were something intimate. But what the hell, if it kept him from moving.

James downed the rest of the coffee in one go and shuddered. Dolores picked up both glass and mug to put it in the dishwasher. James followed her motion.

"How are you feeling?" He shrugged.

"Not any different."

"Okay. We'll leave it at that for now. How about we start right now. Unless you have other plans?" James shook his head.

"Okay. Then let's go."

She grabbed his left hand and dragged him to the elevator, not letting him go as they stood inside, or when the doors opened. Only in the training room with the targets did she let his hand drop in favor of her knives.

...

Dolores learned quickly. Both her aim and her infant Russian vocabulary grew better as the hours progressed. Steve eventually joined them and Dolores had to implement James' ban of movement. Steve turned to the punching bag and giggled together with James at Dolores' stumbling pronunciation. The words were unfamiliar, unlike anything she had ever spoken before, but that's what she loved. The feeling of her tongue getting used to these new forms, her throat struggling with the new sounds. James kept telling her new words, noting down which ones she seemed to remember on a notebook he'd found, giving her new ones every now and then. Steve eventually gave up trying to keep up with her as Dolores was displaying her extraordinary talent for languages. The serum had made both Steve and James not only stronger but smarter, but while that enabled Steve to calculate the angles at which to throw his shield in a matter of seconds and James to never miss a shot, Dolores' knack for the new words was something they couldn't keep up with. She seemed to soak up the new knowledge like a dry sponge while continuously letting her knives fly towards the targets.

When Wanda informed them via Friday that dinner was ready, Dolores could greet and say goodbye to people in pretty much any situation and any time of day. She not only remembered the sounds of the words but knew them. She knew what they meant, not only what they translated to. She laughed at Wanda's and Nat's faces when she greeted them in her newfound language when stepping out of the elevator. Nat quickly got the connection, seeing James' proud little smile and grinned.

"What did I miss?" Wanda asked, seeing Nat's grin.

"I am learning Russian," Dolores stated proudly. She hadn't had a chance to try out her talent for languages in quite some time and she was happy it still worked as well as she remembered.

"But why?" She shrugged and helped Nat carry the salad bowls and plates with the fish sticks to the table while Wanda had the tables and glasses perform intricate dances. Banner and Vision soon joined and they sat down. Dolores looked to James and he just shrugged his shoulders.

"Therapy purposes. Hydra somehow disabled James' hunger sensation," she started explaining while she eyes James closely who sheepishly started loading mashed potatoes, fish sticks, and salad onto his plate. At the mention of the organization, the rest of the table fell quiet, all attention now on Dolores. "I still need to figure out if I can do something about it. Now he's teaching me Russian as occupational therapy. His body has been starving for over a month and it's showing even through the serum. So training ban for a week." Steve, worry drawing deep creases into his head, found his voice first.

"What does that mean?" Dolores felt James growing uncomfortable under the stares of the group and quickly kept talking to draw the attention to herself.

"Well, hunger disabled, no craving for food. Think of it as the feeling when you've just eaten, it's a super hot day and someone puts fatty food in front of you. Just like that, always. It makes sense, like that Hydra could be sure it controlled any food he got." Against the collective example, Dolores started eating, hoping the others would soon follow, explaining through her full mouth. "Normally, a body first uses up fat and then muscle tissue and then starts feeding off the organs. Somehow the serum prevented that, obviously," she motioned at James' muscles. "But until I know how that shit works, I don't want to rely on it. So, controlled regular diet and as little movement as possible. That's no training. So, occupational therapy. And I get to learn Russian from a native speaker." She dug into the fish sticks and slowly, the others followed her example.

"Talk about normal dinner conversations," Nat commented, and started eating herself. Banner smiled.

"Any other bombs before the potatoes get cold?" Wanda shrugged.

"I can control clockworks now." Banner grinned.

"Continue like that and you're going to be Tony's night terror. Anyone else?"

"The UN said they might have a mission soon, but didn't give any details yet."

"Okay. Including me?" Steve shook his head.

"I don't know. I don't think so though. If it was that bad, they'd have informed us by now." Steve smiled apologetically but Banner shook his head.

"No, that's good. I'd rather stay anyway." At that, the forgotten tablet popped back into Dolores' head.

"Oh, Bruce, I'll need your help tomorrow at the med bay. I need to do an operation and I need a second set of hands."

"For what?" Dolores nodded at James.

"James. We did an x-ray yesterday and I need to fix some of Hydras butchery."

"Okay, what exactly? We don't have too much surgical equipment down there, we might need to order some." Dolores glanced at James who pretended to be invested in his food. He made no moves to stop her and Dolores was partly proud and partly astonished at how freely he was allowing her to talk about him. She did a quick scan of the rest of the table, taking in their interested and, in Steve's case, worried expressions.

"Do you mind?"

"You're sitting at a table with two assassins, a soldier from WW2, a witch, a human AI and the Hulk, I don't think we mind medical discussions at dinner," Nat commented and Wanda giggled into her salad.

"True that. Well, Hydra apparently hired butchers for doctors, they forgot shrapnel and two bullets in there. I thought while we have the time and Stark's funds I might get them out." Bruce's jaw dropped and Steve coughed, having choked on a fish stick.

"What the fuck," Nat murmured, staring at James who was trying his hardest to vanish, concentrating almost ridiculously hard on keeping the salad and the mashed potatoes on his plate apart.

"My thoughts exactly."

"No really, what the hell? How can you forget fucking bullets in a wound." To her surprise, James answered before she could, talking quietly to his fish sticks.

"I heal faster. Sometimes the wounds were healed before I got back to base and they didn't bother cutting me up again."

"Jesus Christ," Steve cursed. James chuckled quietly.

"Yeah. I'm a mess." He sounded bitter, his gaze locked on his plate.

"Not just you, boy. We're all," Wanda smiled at him, and James looked up and smiled back the tiniest small smile that melted Dolores' heart.

"In other news today, I can also now hit a target," Dolores changed the topic to relieve some of the tension on James.

"Sweet. Tell me if you want to try moving targets, we could practice together," Wanda went with her, and the rest of the table got the message, turning to somewhat more lighthearted topics. The rest of the dinner was more comfortable and James even laughed quietly a few times. After dinner, Bruce joined Nat with washing up and Steve and James followed Dolores to her room. She motioned the guys to take a seat while getting to her table. She had a picture still taped to her board but had barely started. She got out her brushes and started painting, glancing at James every now and then.

The three of them talked into the night, starting off at the upcoming operation but moving on to other topics quickly. Dolores finished her picture and moved on to inking the next one, enjoying mostly listening to Steve and James talking and laughing together. She could almost imagine the two before the war and she couldn't help her hopes for the two of them rising. When her eyes were starting to hurt from the strain of inking tiny pearls and the bad light, she shooed Steve out of her room, keeping James with the excuse of their session. When they were alone, she killed the lights and threw herself onto the bed. She turned her head to James, patting onto the side of the bed he had occupied in the morning.

"You okay?" He nodded and settled down against the headboard.

"Wanda's nice." Dolores gave her best to hide a huge grin, only managing to tone it down to a smile.

"Yeah, she is. Are you okay with the operation being tomorrow?" He shrugged his shoulders. Dolores groaned as she got up to brush her teeth, returning with the toothbrush in her mouth.

"Yeah, why not. The sooner the better I guess."

"Okay. I'll go over the scans again, I don't think it will take longer than three or four hours."

"Okay. I'll just be glad to be rid of it." Dolores smiled, returning to the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth and change into the oversized shirt she had designated as her pyjamas. Her eyes fell on the bathtub she had still not managed to inaugurate, and she returned to bed with a sigh. James had picked up the _Count of Monte Cristo_ , having finished _The Unwanteds._ Dolores crept under the sheets and somehow managed to get up the courage to return to the position she had fallen asleep in last night. She soaked up his warmth and sighed happily as the comfort of his closeness wrapped her like a blanket of sunlight. James seemed stunned for a moment but didn't protest, resting his left arm on her shoulder, reading with one hand only.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" she murmured, her mind already drifting off.

"In a sek," he answered absentmindedly and Dolores knew he was going to read into the morning.


	21. Chapter 21

Day 10, 10:46

 _"What do you think happens when we die, Dot?"_

 _Dolores turns her head to look at Nessy who is lost in the stars above._

 _"I don't know. It's not something I can understand, so I don't rack my brains about it."_

 _"I think we dream," Nessy continues as if she hadn't asked the question to hear the answer. "Wouldn't that be nice? You're dying, your mind is fading, your body too old or too broken to support you and your eyes close. And then you wake up again in a dream, your favorite dream, and it goes on forever, and you can change it however you want."_

 _Nessy looks over and Dolores smiles at the hopeful spark in her eyes. They had the same eyes. Same green, same grey. Different minds behind them, different spirits behind the Stardust._

 _"If I died, would you cry?" Nessy looks back up, her voice different now. As if she wasn't talking about dreaming anymore, but about reality. But Dolores knows better than to call her out on it. In moods like this one, Nessy is really like her namesake. A shy animal that will flee back into hiding at the slightest disturbance._

 _"Of course. I don't think I could stop crying. I mean, I would loose my best friend, my sister and my family all in one." Dolores moves slowly, taking Nessy's hand, though neither of them looks away from the starry sky."Are you? Going to die?"_

 _"I don't know." The words sound so hollow, like a recording to be replayed at command._

 _"I don't want you to die. I don't want to be alone. I'm afraid of that." At that, Nessy smiled and squeezes Dolores' hand softly._

 _"You're an immortal soul spirit, not even Tony Stark can understand, inhabiting a body made of the age-old dust of a million stars. You don't have to be afraid of anything," she recites their line. Dolores smiles and they look up at the stars they are part of._

 _And then one of those stars falls. If drips down from the sky like a drop of water. Another one follows, and another one and the next one. It starts raining stars and suddenly the rain is red, red and tastes like metal. Dolores squeezes Nessy's hand, but her hand is gone, no longer there. Dolores scrambles to her feet looking around, looking for Nessy._

 _There she is, leaning against the chimney of the roof, clinging to her right arm which is sliced open longways, looking up at the stars, tears streaking down her face. But there is no blood, no puddles around her. The blood is falling from the sky and the world around her is slowly drowning in it, drowning in Nessy's blood._

Dolores tore her eyes open, still seeing the red rain all around her. But it was gone. She was back in her room in Stark Tower, the white walls slowly being filled up with pictures. She felt groggy and sticky. She had wanted to calm and clear her mind like she used to before surgeries and had apparently fallen asleep in the armchair. She shook the dream out of her head and went into the bathroom. The next few hours were important, probably the most important thing she had done in the last few years. She had to be as comfortable as possible if she wanted to avoid any mistakes.

She showered quickly and efficiently, keeping the bandage around her arm dry. Dressing quickly she hurried down into the lab where Bruce had managed to chase Stark away for the duration of the operation. A lost of stuff was missing from the table he usually occupied, so Dolores wasn't worrying that he might burst into the procedure. James sat on the metal table, his eyes staring into nothingness. She approached him with a smile, tying her hair back into a tight ponytail and then moving on to braid it.

"Hey. Ready?" He nodded and Dolores wondered how often Hydra had done this that he was so calm about an operation. Usually, the greatest hurdle was to calm down the patient enough, but James didn't even seem to care. The only thing he had worried about was a full narcosis, but Dolores had suggested that it might also work with local anesthetics. A full narcosis was easier, but if he didn't want it, she wouldn't force him. She had become a doctor to help, not to live out a god complex. Banner joined them just as Dolores had laid James down onto the table, making sure everything was comfortable. She had covered him from the waist down with a blanket to shield him from the cold, only his bare chest open to examination.

"Ah, Bruce. Good, then we can start. So, there's a bullet still in your arm and some shrapnel around your left shoulder and your chest. We'll work with local anesthetics and start with the arm, then the shoulder and then the chest. We will take a break after the second operation as both the shoulder and the chest will be complicated. James, you'll have to talk to me the whole time. I'll ask you questions every now and then and you'll have to answer truthfully so I can monitor how things are working out. Bruce, you'll be handing me stuff and holding it, so take a tour of where everything is." Bruce nodded and started inspecting the layout of the surgical instruments. Dolores turned to James with the first syringe of anesthetic. She concentrated on the needle, making sure everything was fine before she inspected James right arm.

"I'll inject the anesthetic now. It will be uncomfortable and maybe even hurt a bit but the area should then be numb in a few minutes. Tell me if anything feels off, in case you are allergic or something." James nodded and Dolores breathed, concentrating on the muscle beneath her hands. She quietly whispered the names of the muscle groups and the blood vessels beneath the skin, trying to distract herself from the warmth of his skin. Of course his skin was warm, she'd have seriously fucked up if it wasn't. And of course he had little white scars covering his arm, he'd been with Hydra and raising the arms was an instinctive defense mechanism. But when she punctured his skin with the needle, her thoughts went blank and blissful concentration settled in at the familiar movements.

The bullet was easily removed, Dolores swiftly maneuvering her tools to cut loose the metal. James' body had grown accustomed to the metal so much it had grown around it, making it slightly harder to extract the bullet, but Dolores managed with minimal damage to the tissue. She took her time stitching up the wound, relaxing before turning to his left shoulder.

For that, she changed position, sitting down on a chair beside his head, working through a magnifying glass. She could feel James' eyes on her as she asked him questions through her mouthguard, but by then she was so deeply concentrated on the entanglement of blood vessels, muscles, nerves, and wires that that didn't distract her in the slightest. She worked carefully, her instruments moving with the same precision as her paintbrush did, not one move unwanted, not one move a mistake. Her mouth asked easy questions in regular intervals, alternating from how he felt to what his favorite color was, but her brain barely registered her own voice. She was fully immersed in a world of raw living flesh, pulsing arteries and strings of nerves. Bruce was a good nurse, handing her instruments quickly and immediately disinfecting the ones she discarded for further use.

Dolores' decision to turn her back to surgery had not been an easy one, and today she realized again why. It was a terribly harsh, strenuous and draining profession, but Dolores had always loved the anatomy of the human body and despite the pressure, during surgery, she could lose herself in it. Bruce didn't stop her when she forgot to take the break she had announced and simply rolled over to James' chest, continuing to talk to him in a calming manner as she sedated the nerves, checked back with the x-ray for the thousandth time, and started working.

When she finally knotted the last stitch, the exhaustion of hours of intense concentration slammed into her like a train. Her eyes took longer than usual to adjust to the depths of the room after staring through a magnifying glass for hours and she pushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. Bruce let out a gasp of terror when he saw her.

"What?!" she asked, her tired knotted mind alarmed at his expression. James giggled and completely confused, Dolores turned to him.

"You look terrifying," he grinned. Dolores spun around and headed over to the mirror above the basin in the corner. When she saw her reflection she too had to grin. The plastic gloves covering her hands were full of his blood and over the course of the operation, she had smeared it all over her face. She turned back to them and made a face before getting off the gloves and trying to rinse the blood off her hands, face, and arms.

"Thanks, Bruce, a lot. I'll clean up here, but I'd ask you to tell Steve how things went." She turned to James who hadn't dared to move from the operation table. "If you don't mind, we can just send him down here."

"I don't mind," James shrugged, his voice betraying that he did everything but mind his best friend coming down. Dolores grinned and Bruce nodded before leaving.

"I'll tell him."

After washing up herself and putting her gloves back on, Dolores returned to her patient and started wrapping up the new wounds. She applied antibacterial salve and checked up on the stitches again. Then she washed the blood from James' skin with some warm water, making sure to stay clear of the new bandages. Again the proximity of his skin, his body, did something to her heart and mind, and her concentration slipped. When she caught herself pulling the cloth over the soft pink scar on his abdomen for the second time, she snapped out of it and quickly spun around, doing her best to ignore the look on his face. It was the same one he had had before she had tricked him in the training room, and she wasn't going to go down that road again. She told herself it was just her mind being tired after hours of intense concentration and picked up the clean shirt. She helped James pull it over, the wounds still numb to the pain. He'd have difficulties getting dressed for some time, but that was a minor problem.

By the time Steve entered the lab, Dolores was cleaning up the instruments, having moved James to the chair she had been working on cleaning the table. Seeing his best friend trying his best not to laugh at Dolores' pronunciation of different foods smoothed out the creases of worry he had come down with, and he started helping Dolores while once more admiring her ease with the new language.

Eventually, Steve and Dolores had sorted the med bay back to its original state. Dolores instructed Steve to help James walk as they went to the elevator to get to Steve's floor, though that was redundant caution. Despite knowing of his quick healing, Dolores limited James' movement even further, confining him to the floor so she and Steve could have a constant eye on him, just in case.

Then, things settled back into the now established routine, interrupted only by Bruce remembering the chip in Dolores, followed by a small operation to remove it. Dolores had completely forgotten about the chip and was relieved to know it gone. That was the only thing disrupting the rhythm of daily life. James, Steve, and Dolores would almost always be together, Steve either cooking, drawing, training or convincing them to further episodes of Star Trek, James sitting or lying around on Dolores' command, teaching her Russian words and phrases and hiding his first clumsy attempts at drawing from Steve at first, but eventually embracing his friends help, and Dolores playing with her knives, working like mad on new pictures or training with How and at the end of the week even Steve.

After four days, Dolores had decided to remove the bandages completely and pull the stitches, the wounds having healed beautifully. The three were now the smallest scars in James' collection and Dolores was not even trying to hide her pride in her work, showing the scars off to Wanda and Steve. She made sure James ate regularly and the rest of the group caught on to that routine, making sure James was there for dinner as much as they didn't care whether Stark was there too. On the evening of the operation, a whiteboard with eight differently colored markers appeared in the kitchen on Steve's floor, which was where they most commonly ate.

Dolores also continued her conversations with James, although not pushing him for anything, wanting his body to recover first. It did, however, have the side effect that by the end of the week James not only talked to her and Steve but to Wanda and Bruce as well, although he was still reserved around Vision and Nat. Dolores too noticed some improvements on her side. Her aim with her knives had improved so much that she had taken up on Wanda's offer and was now practicing with moving targets. Steve had agreed as a voluntary victim on which she could practice her own powers and at the end of the week, she not only instinctively build the barrier to her powers, enabling her to touch others without an immediate flow of emotions, she could also choose to only view parts of a persons soul, as she had gotten used to calling it, as well as showing them only parts of her own. Her Russian had also improved greatly, Wanda and Nat occasionally switching to Russian whenever they couldn't come up with the English word immediately and then continuing. Dolores, by all means, didn't understand everything, but to James' secret pride, at the end of the week she almost always got the general topic of the conversation and her accent was becoming better and better.

James had asked whether he could sleep in her room, excusing the idea with it being easier for her to check up on him in case anything happened. Dolores only too happily agreed, excusing her excitement with the fact that she hadn't had a nightmare ever since they had gotten into that habit. Because of this and him generally doing his best to constantly stay around her, Dolores noticed how restless he was getting with all the action around him. His drawing skills were getting better, nowhere near paralleling Steve's, but he was learning to draw faces more and more accurately, filling a notebook with them. Dolores hadn't asked to see it, trusting that he would show her if he thought it necessary, and she hadn't asked about it either.

It was on a Sunday, eight days after the operation, that this natural rhythm got upset.


	22. Chapter 22

Day 18, 21:09

Tory Stark was a smart man, and he knew that. Many people cited this as one of his greatest flaws, but Tony didn't agree. He knew what he was capable of, he knew his limits. Which was why he had allowed the icicle to stay in the first place, he knew that here, in the heart of all his equipment, he could take him down if needed. That didn't mean he trusted him. Or that doctor of his. He hadn't been able to figure out her accusation that he had messed with her life since he had never met her before. Her mother had apparently worked for Stark Industries, but that was under his father. He didn't know, didn't have the upper hand, and that bugged him, lead him to be especially cautious around her and the icicle. Which had resulted in the two security cameras in both of their rooms.

It had turned out to be a mostly redundant effort. They seemed to be talking only, and the only benefit he got out of it was not having to go down to see the doctors admittedly quite good pictures, and watching the icicles ridiculously slow progress at drawing. Friday, having a programmed awareness for human rights which he now regretted, insisted in cameras without sound, but he didn't care about either of their emotional spillings anyway. The only exciting incident was the icicle carrying a wet doctor into her room during the hurricane, but that was also very brief.

Because of this, when Friday reported "Successful facial recognition", Tony didn't know what it meant at first. When he remembered having asked Friday to continuously run scans on the icicles portraits since he had heard that humans couldn't make up new faces, they always only remembered ones already seen and then vaguely portrayed them, he rolled over to the screen the specific picture was shown on.

At first, Tony Stark felt cold. As of someone had torn the heart from his chest and had replaced it with one matching his suit. It was the only moment in his life that he could remember, or so he'd later say, in which he didn't think anything, an empty void of shock filling his skull. When the wheels in his brain started spinning, however, they did so faster than ever. Without understanding the reasoning behind the decision until moments later he commanded Friday to shut the tower.

"Code Red." Friday responded with complete darkness. Only the screens of the computer Tony was working on illuminated the room has he spewed commands to Friday, his fingers racing over the keyboard, his eyes flickering back to the face in the portrait every so often.


	23. Chapter 23

Day 19, 01:58 

The lights had been out all night and Wanda and Dolores had been coming up with more and more outlandish reasons for the situation, while Steve watched James pace the room. Both were tense, and Dolores knew Wanda was to, she felt no different. They had gone from a failure in the arc reactor over a sneak attack by more aliens and were now arguing whether goblins could create functioning diving equipment to cut the cables to the reactor and whether pixies could bury down beneath Stark Tower to disrupt the current entry. Wanda tried to giggle at the idea, but it came out as forced and nervous. Dolores checked her phone for the thousandth time, but she still had no reception. She sighed and let herself fall back onto the mattress.

Drowsiness was beginning to overtake her and she groaned, sitting up again so she'd stay awake. James and Steve panicking had her on edge, but she wasn't a trained soldier/assassin/witch, she was just a civilian with funky powers, and the adrenaline was wearing off.

"Sleep. I'll wake you if anything happens." Wanda pulled her back onto the bed and Dolores curled up in a relieved sigh. But sleep wouldn't come. She heard James' pacing steps strangely loud, her minds beat aligning with his nervous feet. Eventually, she accepted that she'd not be sleeping anytime soon and opened her eyes, following James' path around the room as far as she could see it without moving her head. She had gotten used to him sleeping beside her, falling asleep without his warmth and steady breathing seemed impossible. And seeing him so anxious didn't help the cause either. He had thrown on a jacket earlier and Dolores wondered if he really was cold, or whether it was a trained behavior. She decided to give it a thought later, right now, her mind was strangely fixed to James' pacing figure. Which froze when painful static echoed around the room. Dolores clasped her hands over her ears and James flinched at the sudden sound. But then the static grew quieter, and Stark's voice sounded through it.

"Guys? From what I can tell I've been hacked, Friday's offline. I contained it, but it'll take a while to get things up and running again. I'll have my suits search the building in case it wasn't just the hack. Vision, I'd appreciate if you'd do the same and the get down here. Everyone else, just stay put until I've sorted this out." With that, the static grew quiet and silence enveloped them once more. Dolores sighed and sat back up, rubbing her tired eyes. Nobody here was going to sleep until Vision confirmed there was nobody but them in the building, so she might as well give up. She got out the knife she had made a habit of keeping strapped to her leg at all times and started spinning the blade to give her fingers something to do.

After the message from Stark, James had veered from his path and now headed for the bed. Wanda and Dolores shifted to give him space and indeed, he actually sat down against the headboard. Dolores rolled over so she could look at him. Despite his sudden change in posture, he wasn't less nervous than before. His eyes were fixed on the door, his hands seemingly relaxed, but Dolores knew they could find a weapon faster than she could blink. James attention flickered over to Wanda when she yawned and stretched herself, but it quickly fixed itself on the door again.

"This is going to take forever. Bucky, you take the first watch. Wake us if anything happens. Steve's second, I'm third." With that, she pulled the blanket over her and shuffled around until she had found a comfortable sleeping position. James looked a little surprised, but he didn't argue, and neither did Steve who was pulling the two armchairs together to make a provisional couch.

After the other two had started breathing regularly, Dolores turned to look up at James, who was still staring at the door. When she moved he looked down in surprise, he'd thought she was asleep. But she couldn't sleep, not alone, not anymore. She carefully moved closer to him and looked up, asking the question with her eyes so she wouldn't wake Wanda or Steve. She was unsure whether he wanted her that close when he was nervous like that, but to her surprise, he smiled, one of those tiny quiet smiles she had seen more and more often over the course of the week, and pulled her closer. Dolores couldn't help the grin on her face or the little skip of her heart as she wrapped her arm around his and rested her head against his hip.

...

Dolores awoke with the light. She felt James tense under her before she had even opened her eyes.

"Good Morning, squad. Friday's back online and the security systems rewritten. Still, meeting in twenty on the Capsicle's floor. I found something." Dolores played with the thought of arguing, simply not getting up and pinning James down with her. But thenSteve got up and she sighed and rolled over, pulling the blanket both off her and James, exposing her naked legs to the cool morning air. This was a long-term arrangement, so it was essential to take part in group activities. James hadn't moved since last night and he didn't now, only watched her in amusement as she hopped around the room to get into the cargos. Dolores didn't bother going to the bathroom to change her shirt, simply turning her back to him. She had never minded her naked body, and seeing that she was sharing her bed and her room for most of the day with James anyway, she didn't bother with trying to hide what he had seen anyway.

It took her three minutes to get ready, by that time Steve was already long out of the room, having left to change before Dolores had even gotten up. Wanda was still asleep or pretending to be so. James watched her with a strange look in his eyes as she knelt down before Wanda and gently brushed her face with her gloved hand to wake her. Wanda's eyes flew open and she grabbed Dolores' wrist.

"Easy. Stark fixed the problem. He wants us all in Steve's kitchen in fifteen minutes." Dolores softened her voice to not show the pain Wanda's tight grip was causing her. When she recognized Dolores, Wanda let go and groggily got up.

"Sorry 'bout that," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes awake.

"Don't worry, it's fine." Wanda stretched and got up, only barely awake. She trotted out of the room and murmured something about a shower. Dolores turned to James.

"Wanna go up already? Help Steve with breakfast or something." James just got up and followed her to the elevator up to Steve's floor.

After ten minutes of putting plates on the table and cutting onions for omelets, everyone was there, minus Stark. He strode into the room with a tablet in his hand which he flicked at the wall, leading Friday to display a map on the wall.

"It took forever, seeing that the code was pretty smart, but I figured out where it came from." He pointed at the map which was inspected with sudden interest. "I'm guessing the Hydra base is underground, but it should be no problem from all of us. I say we prepare today and leave at one. Even Hydra's gotta sleep."

"They don't. They sleep in shifts." James' quiet comments somewhat startled Stark out of his monolog. James had started speaking more frequently with most of the team, but to Stark that was still new.

"Well, that case, we leave tomorrow point twelve. At least we can catch some sleep like that," Nat said and Wanda just nodded into the steam of her second coffee.

"Fine. And the Icicle and the doctor stay here."

"What?" Steve had listened attentively until now but at Stark's comment, he stood up.

"I think that's a good idea," Dolores interrupted, seeing that Stark and Steve were about to get into an argument.

"Hydra wants us, they infiltrated a UN hospital to get to us, I don't think it's smart for us to just walk into the belly of the beast."

"If that's settled, can we go back to bed?" Wanda mumbled, a dangerously impatient tone in her voice.

"Yeah. Breakfast's ready for those who won't fall asleep in it. Attack of the Hydra base tomorrow at twelve, James and I stay here." Stark opened his mouth to argue Dolores' simplification of his plan, but Wanda didn't bother waiting for him. She just shuffled past to the couch and just barely managed to save her coffee on the table before dropping onto the cushions. With that, the rest of the group moved, helping Steve set the food on the table or sitting down, leaving Stark standing in front of his map. Dolores moved to Wanda and covered her already sleeping from with a blanket. When she turned to help with the food, James stood waiting for her.

"Thank you," he murmured, apparently not wanting the rest of the chattering group behind him to catch the conversation. Dolores smiled and took his hand, pulling him to the table. She had spoken up because it would be a great mistake, from a psychological standpoint, to drag James into the place where the organization resided him that had tortured him. She hadn't thought about whether he wanted to go or not, but she liked the thought that he wasn't out for revenge.

...

The rest of the day was spent on the training floor. Even if Dolores and James would stay, it was good practice for Wanda having to maneuver the targets through the air, and for Steve, sparring with James. Nat eventually left How alone to join Steve and James and Vision watched them in amusement, giving tips here and there. Banner was on his floor, not liking the air of violence that came from the constant fighting, and Stark had suspiciously disappeared after breakfast. For Dolores' taste, he was much too calm about his security being hacked, but she didn't give it too much thought. Hitting Wanda's targets and keeping up with James' ever-growing demands on her knowledge of the Russian language kept her on her toes the whole day, demanding too much of her mind to be able to worry about Stark. She grinned when she thought about Nessy's glowing eyes, seeing her big sister train with the Avengers. Maybe she could visit the grave tomorrow, plant new flowers and bring her the book she had had Steve sign again. Maybe she'd even ask James to join her.

Nat and Wanda left early to bed with Steve following shortly behind. As soon as Wanda was gone, Vision moved through the floors, leaving James and Dolores behind. Dolores dragged her tired body towards the window, leaning her head against the glass that separated her from a long fall. James joined her, crossing his legs beneath her.

"Did you sleep last night?" She eventually asked, worry rising in her heart as she inspected the ever darkening shadows beneath his eyes.

"A little," he said. Dolores tried to see if he was lying, but she couldn't.

"Steve said you had nightmares." He shrugged his shoulders and looked at the slowly awakening city beneath him.

"Yeah." Dolores nodded and didn't dig any further. Whenever he was uncomfortable talking about something, he'd turn back to short, quiet answers. He didn't lie, but he didn't say much either. And Dolores knew better than to dig it out of him. Still. She wished she would sleep more lightly so that she might notice him tossing and turning with nightmares. But she slept like a rock.

"I want to visit Nessy tomorrow, plant some new flowers. Would you want to come?" The darkness from the nightmares before vanished from his face and he nodded.

"You can't go alone, can you?" Dolores grinned.

"Hell yeah, I can. The chip is gone and I have a decent aim." But at the thought of actually going alone, of leaving without James, her grin fell from her face, shattering as it hit the floor. "I don't want to though," she whispered.

"You won't. I'll come with you." She smiled.

"Let's get some food downstairs. I'm starving." She got up and James followed her movements. All of this seemed so familiar as if they'd lived like this for so much longer than just a few weeks. Even the hack yesterday seemed like a thing from a bad dream.


	24. Chapter 24

Day 20, 12:21

Bucky opened the door to his room. His movements were quick and efficient, wanting to get back to Dot, who was waiting for him downstairs to head to the cemetery, as quickly as possible. He stuffed the letter he had planned to give her into his backpack and turned to head back downstairs.

 _Longing_

Bucky froze. The voice spoke Russian, but Bucky didn't even need to translate. He knew the word, engraved so deep into his mind, he would always know it, no matter what language his mind was working in.

"No." He spun around, his panicking gaze grazing the room, flying over the walls, desperate to find the speakers through which Jarvis' voice came.

 _Rusted_

Bucky felt despair seeping from his gut, rising, licking at his mind with hungry flames.

"Stop!" His voice sounded foreign to him, so much stronger than he felt. He felt his soul succumbing to the fire of despair in his gut. He had prayed never to hear those words, had thought everyone who knew them were dead. He could already feel Hydra's tentacles digging into his brain although he knew that was only his imagination. The control would only be complete with the last word. Spinning to the door he tried to flee, crashing against the wood, but it didn't budge. Enforced with metal. His eyes weren't really seeing as he turned to the room, his heart racing as he once more tried to find the speakers.

 _Seventeen_

Bucky screamed in hopes of overpowering the words, clutching his skull, digging his hands into the skin. His breathing was shallow and rapid as his mind raced around. There was nothing he could do. Once again Hydra had him helpless, losing control over his mind. He smashed his metal fist into the window, but the glass only cracked. He'd never get out in time. His thoughts flew to Dot waiting downstairs and his heart stopped. She'd die, she wouldn't recognize the Winter Soldier and he would kill her for standing in his way. His lungs collapsed and no oxygen reached his brain as his panic heightened to new levels.

 _Daybreak_

Bucky roared as the words dug into him. And there was nothing he could do, nowhere he could run, nowhere he could hide.

James murmured an apology for his long absence when he finally joined her in the entrance hall of Stark Tower. Taking her bag from the chair she had put it on while waiting, Dolores shot him a reassuring smile and lead them to the garage, picking the car they had taken for their first trip. They stopped at a flower shop where Dolores bought some violets and forget-me-not's to plant onto the grave. James helped her carry the box to the car and then they were on their way again. They didn't talk much during the ride and although Dolores usually enjoyed their shared silences, something about today made it hard for her to lose herself in it. She glanced over at James at a few red lights but he just stared ahead, lost in his own thoughts, so she concluded it was probably just her, the nerves of taking someone to Nessy's grave getting to her.

They had to park a few blocks away and Dolores blushed lightly when James refused to let her help carry the box with the flowers. An elderly lady was tending to one of the other graves and greeted them when the walked along to rows of gravestones to Nessy's, which was covered in spots of golden sunlight. James tensed when he saw that they wouldn't be alone, and Dolores wondered what about the frail grey figure raised his suspicions. They set down the box and their bags on the road and Dolores was about to sit down in front of the stone as was her custom when James looked up at the woman again. Something about that rose that dark ungood feeling in her gut again. They were alone, far from security cameras and the only living soul around that could witness their presence was an old woman that would barely be able to put up any struggle. There was nothing to worry about. Dolores knew better than to ignore her gut twice in a row. There was something she had missed, something James had picked up on that she hadn't noticed. Without breaking her movement, Dolores kneeled in front of the stone, not putting down her feet to be able to move quickly. She turned her face to the inscription but saw, heard, noticed everything.

James scanning the park.

The wind softly brushing the petals of their flowers.

The smell of the earth beneath her.

The shadow of the birds gliding over the stones.

The old woman getting up to leave.

James tensing as he noticed the movement.

The gravel shifting beneath the woman's feet.

The noise growing distant.

James turning to her.

James tensing.

James'

Fist

Rising.

Whether it was the training with How, Wanda and Steve or her powers Dolores didn't know, but when she saw the metal glint in the light of the sun out of the corner in her eyes, her body moved faster than thought. James' fist slammed onto Nessy's grave, just barely missing her head, destroying the last living plant on it. Dolores was on her feet before she knew it, ducking his fist as it swung around, just a few millimeters from crushing her throat. Her mind was frozen in shock as her body melted into movement, dancing around him quick as rain, the many hours of training having carved the movements into her muscle memory. But when her thoughts started rolling again they did with a thousand miles a minute. It didn't take her two seconds to draw her conclusion and she trusted her gut. She'd figure out how she'd gotten there later. The Winter Soldier was attacking her. And not in a "capture for further usage" way. In a "we want her dead" way.

Dolores dodged a kick, avoiding having her ribs crushed and whirled around, pushing the soldier off balance. It was tearing her apart to fight James, knowing she'd have to hurt him eventually. The amount of force he was using wasn't careful or measured. He was going all out, meaning she couldn't evade forever. And she didn't want to hurt him, never. He was hurt enough without her digging her way too sharp claws into his soul as well. But the ice that had grown over his eyes froze the pain and her heart, kicking loose survival instincts she didn't know she had. Her momentary pity cost her, James' right hand flying into her side, sending her flying. Fire roared up in her side, sinking teeth of dry ice onto her ribs and Dolores knew at least one rib was broken. Yet, when she pushed herself off the grass, rolling onto her back just in time to avoid his fist shattering her skull, she was smiling. She could see how that annoyed the Soldier, but that was exactly what she wanted. Because she wasn't powerless. Not anymore.

She scrambled to her feet, stumbling as he hit her wounded side again, knocking all breath out of her burning lungs. She drew a breath and opened her mouth and started screaming, as loud as she could, as loud as the tearing pain in her side wanted her to, forcing all the pain of both her soul and body out. At the sudden silence shattering sound, Dolores could see the Winter Soldier panicking, fury melted the ice off his face. His lips drew back in a feral snarl, baring his teeth. He lunged at her and Dolores ducked his metal fist, just to find herself in a choke hold by his other arm. If he hadn't tried to crush her neck, she would have smiled. Now, with the darkness closing in, she hurried to tear down the barriers she now instinctively kept up, flooding him with her pain. She poured every tingling of her scorching, melting, tearing, frozen nerves into it and he released her with a hiss, dropping her like charcoal. Not caring about her choking lungs Dolores fixated him, desperate to use that one second of pain and confusion that stalled him. She looked into those cold winter eyes, willing herself to see only the ice, willing herself to ignore the painful familiarity of his face, willing herself to see only Hydra that had taken over his body, robbed him of his budding mind, of their blossoming friendship, his freedom, his life. And she wanted them to hurt, wanted them to feel every second of pain they had caused him and her. She laid every shot, every graze, every millilitre of poison and every cut with a knife that both of them had suffered into that desire to see Hydra scream.

And scream he did. Dolores flinched as James roared in pain unseen. His muscles cramped and rippled under his skin, his body contorting in ways impossible, twisting and thrashing at the black fire that was consuming his soul.

Dolores slowly stepped closer to his writhing form, setting each foot down softly onto the grass, concentrating on nothing but the pain she was causing him. Because she had to keep the balance. Soothing the fire in her soul, tears came to her eyes as she watched him roar in agony until his voice grew weak, his movements sluggish, his eyes confused.

When he dropped to the grass unconscious, Dolores dropped beside her, horror making her partially oblivious to the pain in her side. The Winter Soldier was tough and had known his share of pain and agony. And she had caused him so much pain it had caused him to pass out. But she couldn't let that get to her now. It wasn't over.

Someone had triggered the Winter Soldier, and that someone had ordered him to kill her. Her best guess was Hydra, but why would they kill her? She was a successful experiment. The first conclusion she came to had her concentrating on her powers once more. This had been a gladiator fight. Whoever won was the best soldier. Which meant they thought James was dead and she was weakened to capture her.

Later, Dolores couldn't tell what had kept her calm. But she would for the rest of her life shudder at the cold that overtook her soul. When the Winter Soldier fell, the ice in his eyes took her over. Pushing aside her panic, horror, and self-disgust, Dolores rose, opening her hands to the air, sending out her senses, rekindling the fire in her soul. She had had to hurt James, her best friend. Hydra had made her hurt him, scorch him in pain into unconsciousness. They had taken his mind, made him everything he feared and despised about himself, setting back weeks of progress they'd made. Her fury roared inside her and she channeled it onto Hydra, relishing the concert of screams and pain that blossomed around her. Her darkening anger scorched out the human part of herself that shook in terror at the black flames charring the souls around her. Only when the screams died down, her anger followed, having melted the ice over her eyes.

Gasping as tears of horror at what she had just done choked her, Dolores dropped to her knees beside James. She had just killed. She almost saw the blood dripping from her hands, dripping onto James' unconscious body.

That image snapped her out of it. She had to get him out of here. Hydra had found them both, and she had killed their agents. Hydra would know, they had to get out of here. The cold logic that overtook her whenever she put on plastic gloves suppressed the panic that climbed up her throat. She had to stay calm, they had to get somewhere safe. Hydra was coming and she had to protect James.

Dolores was quick and efficient, strapping both of their backpacks onto her and James, having more difficulties with James' unconscious uncooperative body. She had to hide him somewhere where she could inspect the damage she had done and patch up what she could. But from trying to wrestle the backpack onto his body, Dolores knew she wouldn't be carrying him anywhere. His trained body must have weighed over one hundred kilos, the arm not really helping with that. Now slowly panicking, Dolores' gaze skitted over the graveyard, desperately trying to find a hideout.

That's when she remembered the chapel. It was a tiny house built with white marble she had visited a few times after the funeral. It wasn't far, having sheltered her several times from rain and storm, so she hurried to pull James' as good as she could over her back to drag him to the little house.

His dead weight dragged her to the ground and the adrenaline left her veins and muscles, leaving them tired and sore from the fight earlier. But she gritted her teeth and dragged him on, defying the agony in her muscles and her lungs. Her whole body wanted to crumble under his weight, but Dolores wouldn't allow it to. She had hurt him like this, she had to fix it. She hadn't done that for Nessy, she had to do it for James. She couldn't lose him, not to Hydra and not to her own anger, she had to save him, had to hide, help him!

Despair powered her movements as she somehow managed to get James' huge body into the chapel and bar the door. There were no windows, no other entrances and the chapel always had closed doors, only few knew it was a public place. Quickly running back outside to hide to flowers in the chapel as well, she bent down on her way back to check for any tracks or marks that might give their movement away. Once assured there were none left, Dolores used everything she found inside the little house to bar the door, even going so far as to drag an unused marble statue of an angel to lean against the door. Only then, when she was sure that nobody would suspect her entrance or get inside the house, Hulk excepted, did she breathe a sigh of relief.

But that was only one second in which she allowed herself to rest, then she was moving again. She carefully pried the backpack off James' body and used it to cushion his head, then pulled her own bag off. Tearing open the first aid kit she turned to her patient and tried to steady her shaking breath. She tried to be quiet and attentive, listening for steps or voices, but her guilt and fear made that impossible.

He was pale, deathly pale, but his chest moved ever so softly, indicating his breathing. Letting the routine take over, Dolores leaned closer, tilting his head backward to listen to the warm air of his breath tickle hear ear. Relief washed over her at the realization that she had really just knocked him out. But that didn't mean there was no damage done. The black fire wasn't something g she had practiced, she didn't know how it worked, what it did to the body.

Her mind numbed as she took his pulse, temperature and blood pressure, then, when everything was in the ranges of normal, went on to feel his body for injuries, her gloves softly kneading his skin. She watched his face for any reactions, knowing that even though he night be able to hide pain when awake, the unconscious mind instinctively reacts to pain. When he didn't react and after a second check she was satisfied he didn't have any physical injuries, she leaned back against the marble wall, keeping her eyes on him and tending to the fluctuating feelings of guilt, horror, and fear in her gut.

...

James awoke silently, only a small flutter of his eyes indicating the change in consciousness. Dolores had moved to the farthest corner of the chapel earlier when she had realized that she didn't know as who James would awake. She watched his arms twitch, a movement so minimal she would have missed it, hadn't she looked for it.

"James?" Her voice was just barely above a whisper, fear and fatigue keeping it down. His eyes fluttered open and scanned the room until they found her. When she saw the slight confusion in his eyes relief flooded her and the distance between them melted away as she threw her arms around him. James under her froze, but for now, she didn't care. There was no pain in his face, he was okay, she hadn't done any permanent damage. "Thank god, you're okay," she whispered into his neck. Hearing her voice crumbling with emotion, he softly hugged her back. Realizing how close they were Dolores scrambled backward and took her original post beside him again. "Sorry, I just..." When she couldn't find the words, she waved the sentence away.

"What happened?" James' brow was furrowed and he stared at the floor in concentrated confusion. "Last I remember I was going back up to get my..." His words froze in his throat as he seemed to remember and when he looked up at her Dolores jumped at the amount of fear and desperation in his look. "What did I do?" Nothing but a mortified whisper, not really wanting an answer but desperately needing to know. Slowly Dolores caught up. He couldn't remember what the Winter Soldier had done.

"Nothing, nobody was hurt." Okay, that was half a lie. He had probably broken two of her ribs, cracked a third one and her whole side was blossoming like a painting, but he hadn't drawn blood, hadn't killed. "What's the last you remember?" James' hands were clenched into fists and he stared at his left one as if it was the origin of all evil.

"I walked upstairs to get the bag. When I wanted to leave, the door was locked and someone spoke those damn words over the speakers."

"Words?" He looked up and for a second Dolores saw the torment of over half a decade in his soul.

"Instilled by Hydra. Ten words to make the Winter Soldier comply." Understanding dawned on Dolores. The Winter Soldier was a deadly weapon, not only with a gun but also with a knife. And to get close enough to the enemy to cut their spinal cords, he'd have to infiltrate their homes. After all, why speak so many languages when you only shot from a distance. No, he was a spy, and as such he'd be able to act like the James she knew, carrying the flowers for her and talking to her normally. Out of an impulse, she took his left hand and pried it open.

"Okay. You came down and we went to a flower shop to get something for Nessy's grave. We went to the graveyard and there was this old lady. You waited until she was gone and we were alone, then you attacked me. You only managed to get me twice though before I... before..." She choked on the words and covered her face with her hands so he wouldn't see her heart breaking.

Trying to collect herself from the floor she had shattered upon, Dolores was startled when James gently pried her hands away from her face. His eyes were full of care and worry and Dolores quickly spoke before he could ask.

"I hurt you. I screamed so you'd silence me, so you'd get close. Then I hurt you, real bad, until it knocked you out," her voice a horrified whisper. "Then I killed the Hydra agents close by and dragged you here." Once more she looked down at her hands and saw her gloves stained with blood. With his metal thumb, James caught a tear escaping her eyes. She had managed to refrain from crying until now and cursed herself for being so weak again. Something about him did that, allowed her to be weak.

"Dot, it's okay. I don't feel any pain now, and whatever it did, it snapped me out of it. And the agents made their choice. It was them or you." Dolores nodded and tried to breathe. Despite her soul screaming and tearing itself apart with the guilt she had to breathe. Keep going. It was done. Now she had to live with it, had to move on, keep walking with the blood staining every one of her steps. When she looked up James seemed to be surprised at how quickly she had managed to compose herself. "Are you okay?" Dolores smiled a forced unhappy smile and shook her head.

"No. I killed, again, and I hurt the most important person in my life. But I can crack my skull on that when we're safe." Momentarily stunned, James stared at her, his metal hand still resting on her cheek, softly caressing it when he dropped his arm. There was a certain awe in his gaze and Dolores wondered what he was thinking, whether he was horrified at her calm, afraid of her cold soul. She knew that she was. For someone as affected by the torments of others as she was, she was almost unnaturally calm. James doing a scan of the building had her attention return to him. "It's a chapel, close to the grave. I couldn't carry you very far." James nodded, pointing at the barricade of the door, all survival, all practicality.

"Who are we expecting?"

"More Hydra. I figured having you kill me was a test. I was a success, the dead agents around the hospital prove that, so why would they want me dead? I'm guessing it was a gladiator thing, see which one of us would survive, and then capture the weakened winner. That's why the agents were there, to take me in." James nodded and got up, starting to clear away the barricade.

"Makes sense. We have to move though. How long was I out?" Dolores checked her watch, having turned off her phone to avoid tracing.

"Two hours. It's 17:30 now."

"Okay. We wait until it's dark, then we move. We need to get a car and get away from here. Ideally out of the city." Dolores nodded. She knew they couldn't go back to Stark Tower, not with Hydra in Stark's systems, able to make James their willing puppet whenever they pleased. She felt a pang of regret when she thought about Wanda and Steve and how they'd panic when they found her and James gone without a trace and wondered whether they could contact them to let them know they were both alright. But that was up to James. Hiding, vanishing from the radar of their enemies was his territory, what he knew best. He'd dissolved into nothing for two years, she trusted he would be able to hide the two of them. Sure, Hydra was now after them, but they were only two people with two backpacks. The world was a large haystack for two needles.

"Okay. Gives us three and a half hours. If we go south, there's this train depot. We might find a car there." James looked at her, once more that strange awe in his look and Dolores looked away, busying herself with the backpack, trying to find something that might help with the pain from the bruise.

Bucky stared in awe at the woman in front of him. With absolute calm she was digging through her backpack, pulling out a little box of pills, taking two. He had attacked her, had probably almost killed her. Now they were on the run, forcing her to leave everything she knew behind, and yet, she was calm. She trusted him, just like that, despite everything he had done. It had that strange warmth creeping up into his chest again and he had to suppress the urge to smile. He couldn't understand what kept her so calm, what kept her here. But then again, there was so much about the way she treated him he didn't understand. Why she didn't fear him, why she was so relaxed and calm around him, why she trusted him, and so many other things. But he knew that he was glad for it. That he wasn't alone, waking up from another night of not remembering. He was glad she was there, with him.

But he also knew it couldn't stay like that. Hydra was a magnet, drawn to his metal arm, reeking death and destruction wherever they went. She wasn't safe with him. And however much he enjoyed the idea of her staying with him, not being alone, he knew it was only that, an idea. She'd get hurt, and that thought alone had him shifting away from her, as much as this strange feeling inside him was pulling him the other way.

"You should go back to the tower," he murmured, the words quietly creeping over his tongue in hopes she wouldn't hear, wouldn't agree. Her look shot up from the description of a little tube.

"I'm not going back. I'm coming with you, you can't go alone!"

"No. Hydra's after me, you'd be in danger." He watched anger rise to her eyes, a fire taking hold of that bright green.

"I'm already in danger, whether I'm with you or not. Hydra want's me too, in case you haven't noticed. You're not the only monster they've lost hold of." That stung. Bucky looked down and tried to find out why her calling him something he knew he was hurt like that. Dot seemed to sense that and sat down beside him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I... I just don't want to be alone again and my mouth talks without me when I'm angry."

"No, you're right. They want you too, I didn't think about that. I only don't want them to hurt you, and you are safer with Stark and the others than around me. Not when all the stuff they did is still in my head." At that, Dot smiled. It was a smile he had never seen before, not one of joy, consolance or pity, but a dark grin that showed no fear.

"I doubt that. And don't allow yourself the illusion that, just because you have a metal arm and a little super strength, you can beat me. And you'll need someone to patch you up anyway." Then her smile faded and she looked at him, her eyes serious. "I'm coming and you can't do shit about that." She drew a shaking breath and Bucky noticed she was fidgeting with her sleeves. "I have nothing to leave behind, James. All I have to loose is you. And Hydra had done enough damage on you. I'm not useless, I know quite a few things that could help us." James took her hands into his, wishing he could feel her skin instead of the soft texture of her gloves.

"I know. It's not that I think you'd be a hindrance. It's just... I don't want to drag you into this. I'm an assassin, that's all Hydra ever allowed me to be, and ..."

"And you're afraid if I see you in action I might run. Don't worry about that. I have seen you in action, quite impressively actually, with Hydra wanting you to kill me three two hours ago and all, and I'm still here. James, I know what you are, I know what you're capable of. And I'm not afraid. I'm looking forward to being impressed," she grinned.


	25. Chapter 25

Day 21, 6:47

The road slithered quietly beneath them as they slipped further and further out of New York's grasps. Bucky felt strangely reluctant to leave the city, knowing what it held for him. But that reluctance was quickly overpowered by not only the fear of Hydra chasing them, but that now familiar warmth when he looked at Dot curled up on the seat beside him. Sleeping like that, she seemed too small and fragile, showing nothing of the power she had had before. Bucky was still amazed by her presence, by her strength. He had seen the horrified look when she had looked at her hands, imagining the blood of Hydra on it. He knew that look, that feeling of breaking apart, crumbling at one's own terrible deeds. But Dot hadn't crumbled. She had stood strong and looked up. She had trusted him, not questioning the route he took through the park which he knew strangely well or the car he stole next to a hair salon. That contrast of caring tenderness when alone with him and iron resolution in the face of danger had him staring in awe, marveling the clash of the two colors. He still couldn't quite believe that she was here with him, choosing to stay with him over Steve and the other Avengers. It was strange, considering her horror at having taken a life, how she stuck with him, he who had taken a hundred. Yet she trusted him, more than he trusted himself.

As soon as they had gotten the car hotwired, he had torn out any radio equipment in fear of it coming to life with that dreadful voice once more. And again, Dot hadn't questioned him once. She had simply helped clear out the broken bits and pieces with a pair of siccors from her backpack.

One of her hands fell out of the knot of her body and James gave in to the begging of his heart to take it into his. She was wearing different gloves now after her first pair had been ruined. They were dark green, almost black, and sewn from a soft fabric. Despite the smooth texture of the cloth, Bucky found himself wishing that he could feel her skin. But, afraid to wake her, he made due with the warmth radiating from her hand into his.

He had stopped trying to understand why her touch made his heart race and why he longed for it whenever she wasn't around. He had accepted that he grew even more restless than usual at night without her and that her smile meant everything to him. He didn't know what exactly that was, a dull memory probing at the back of his mind, trying to explain, but he couldn't quite grasp it. And right now, with her hand in his, the quiet humming motor taking them away from the huge loud city full of light, he didn't mind. He didn't panic, didn't grow anxious or uneasy because he couldn't remember that life he had lost. The night was dark, growing ever blacker as the light of the pulsing heart of life behind them faded and the darkness enveloped him with wings of nothingness. But Bucky didn't mind. He no longer feared the dark, no longer tasted the scents Hydra had left behind in it, no longer feared what he had done under its cover. It was a new night, one unseen, unlived, undamaged. Uncertainty lay ahead, every step a new fight. But he wasn't alone anymore.

The truth of that hung with him and he held Dot's hand a little tighter, fearing fate would come and prove him wrong. Because it was true. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he wasn't alone, wasn't by himself. No matter what would happen in this new untouched night, he wouldn't have to face it on his own. That thought brought a smile to his lips and the stars lit it up with silver light.


	26. Chapter 26

Day 21, 8:09

Bucky knew Dot was awake when her grip on his hand tightened ever so slightly. She didn't speak so he kept it at that, letting his thoughts drift through the silence. Through the night of driving, he had formulated a rough plan, but he could break it to her later. For now, he enjoyed the silence as the sun climbed over the sky. Dot too seemed lost in thought, staring out through the windshield, not really keeping her focus on anything. Her grip on his hand tightened and he looked over to see the shadow of dark thoughts crossing her brow.

"Are you okay?" Dot looked at him quickly and then back at the street and nodded.

"Yeah. I was just thinking about yesterday. I hate that I have that power." Bucky felt a bittersweet familiarity at those words. He knew that sentiment too well.

"Don't. It's part of you now, you won't get anything out of hating it." She rolled her head over the headrest, looking at him with that deep understanding gaze and he knew she was picking him apart.

"You speak like a man with experience." She followed his gaze to his metal arm and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the understanding dawn on her face. Bucky was glad when she didn't deepen the topic but reverted back to silence. After a few minutes, she laughed quietly, nothing joyous about the sound. "It's ironic in a way. Dolor is Latin for pain." She held up her gloved hand and inspected it. "Curious, isn't it. As if I was destined for it." Not knowing how to respond to that, Bucky began tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand and concentrated on driving. "Where are we going actually?" Taking the cue, Bucky laid out the plan he had come up with.

"We need to get off Hydra's grid. Since they hacked Stark Tower and Stark very obviously hasn't gotten rid of them, we can't go back. They'll have your place under surveillance, as well as any place you've ever been to before."

"Why all the effort?"

"Humans like familiarity. No matter how slight." Dot nodded.

"Makes sense. So, anything specific in mind?" Once again, Bucky was amazed at her willingness to follow him into uncertainty. She trusted him with her life and he couldn't understand why.

"We need to lay low until I've figured out what next. I don't know how long that will be, so we're going for long term. That means food, water, warmth, shelter."

"So a house somewhere near a supermarket." Bucky nodded.

"Exactly. Also, we'll need to get out of the country."

"Why's that?" A small concerned crease appeared between her eyebrows and Bucky felt that by now familiar pang of guilt at having dragged her into this.

"Hydra compartmentalizes. Nobody has the grad picture, everyone has small tasks, small goals. Like that, nobody knows everything. I'm a ghost story, all of Hydra know's about me, but I'm hoping only a small fraction was responsible for you. If that's the case, they can't get us when we enter another faction's area. Not without a lot of bureaucracy, and that will slow them down, enough for us to vanish." Dot nodded again, this time more resolute and sat up.

"Okay. Mexico then," she deduced by the direction they were going.

"Exactly. Mexico."

"I'll be brushing up my Spanish then. Which doesn't mean you get to stop teaching me!" Bucky chuckled at the stern look she was trying to hold up.

"Hadn't crossed my mind," he answered in Russian. Dot furrowed her brows for a second, staring at him in concentration as if any movement of her head might jumble the foreign sounds. He was about to translate when she broke out into a grin.

"Well. Vamos!" Bucky smiled and concentrated back on the street slithering before them, his heart suddenly much less afraid.

"Ay, vamos."


	27. Chapter 27

Day 21, 22:18

They stopped in some motel that seemed to be at the end of the world. They hadn't passed a town in hours and the last car Dolores had seen had fallen behind them even before that. James had refused to let her drive the first ten times she had asked but after another three attempts he had budged and she had driven until darkness covered them.

"It's not like I think you can't drive, but this is a boring as fuck road and the only station we have has been playing the same song for four hours now," she explained once she had taken a seat behind the steering wheel and had moved the seat a considerable distance forward.

"Not the same song," he smiled and leaned back.

"You can tell the difference?!" To her, the jangling of the guitars and the unintelligible accents of the male singers sounded the same, only sometimes interrupted by the radio moderator.

"Not really. But sometimes the rhythm changes." Dolores laughed and released her seatbelt again to lean back to her backpack. After her commenting on the silence, James had managed to get some sort of signal from what was left of the radio. The damage apparently wasn't absolute, but great enough to limit their reception to one country station they had been listening to for six hours now. Maybe she couldn't use her phone, but she could have sworn she had her iPod somewhere in the bag. She found it after a brief search and connected it to the cable that was still intact. Immediately the anonymous country singer who differed in absolutely no way to his thousand predecessors was replaced by _The Heavy_ and _Short Change Hero_ started playing. Dolores sighed in relief at the change in tone of the music and started the car again, letting James show her how the hotwiring worked.

They drove until it was dark and then James had her pull over at the first motel they came across. It was dark and shabby, but they didn't need to give their names and got the key in exchange for the cash without question.

Now Dolores was lying on the bed, her freshly washed hair fanned out, and was staring at the ceiling while she listened to the water fall in the shower next door, trying to pick out the soft changes in the sound whenever water would hit his left arm. Eventually, the shower was shut off and Dolores closed her eyes and tried to get the picture of his skin under her fingers out of her head.

She listened to him step out of the door and drop the backpack he had taken next to the bed. He seemed to stand in the middle of the room for a while, and Dolores kept her eyes closed, trying to deduce his movements through the soft rustling of the fabric. He seemed to think that she was asleep and walked to where she knew the table with the phone and the moldy armchair were.

"No, not with the fresh clothes!" she moaned after she had opened her eyes and noticed his change of shirt. He jumped slightly and Dolores did her best to suppress a giggle. "I think it's best we share. The bed is the cleanest thing in the whole room," she added. He seemed a little torn, but Dolores just rolled over to make space for him. James hesitated for a second, then he moved smoothly towards the bed and took his usual position, sitting up against the headboard. As the bed shifted under his weight, Dolores winced as the pain from her broken ribs shot through her body. James' head shot to her, worry painting his face. Dolores tried to sooth his worries with a reassuring smile, hoping her face hadn't shown how brightly the pain had flared. But there was no chance of that. James froze as not to move the bed any further and stared at her, the obvious question burning in his eyes. Dolores sighed, the movement of her lungs making her wince once more. She had gotten used to the constant dull ache whenever she breathed in and out, but the rapid movements of signing or sitting up were still too painful to hide. They would be for a good three weeks.

"You managed to get me twice, back in the graveyard," she muttered quietly. A look of shock flashed over his face.

"You said I didn't hurt anyone," he said almost accusingly, his voice dry and dying.

"Well, I was the only one around. You didn't hurt anyone else. And it isn't bad, nothing to worry about." But once again, he didn't believe her.

"Show me," he said, quietly, almost in a whisper. His voice was slim with guilt and Dolores sighed. There would be no talking him out of inspecting the damage he had done while under Hydra's influence. When she didn't move to remove her shirt, he shifted over ever so slightly, tugging at the hem of her shirt. "I have a right to know," he tried to convince her.

Knowing nothing she could say would change his mind, she grit her teeth to sit up and let out a small cry as she pulled her shirt up to the hem of her bra, revealing the blossoming purple and blue bruise on her side. The Winter Soldier was strong and he hadn't restrained. Dolores thought she was lucky to have come away with only two broken ribs. She knew he had the strength to push the bones right through her lungs.

James thought differently. He didn't make a sound and kept his face icily calm, but his voice betrayed him.

"That is not nothing," he hissed through gritted teeth and she could hear the anger and hatred in his voice, which she knew was directed towards him. "Tell me the truth." He looked up, and even when she knew that his anger was not directed at her, she had to mop up all her courage to not shy back and hide.

"Two broken ribs and a third bruised one. Nothing else." She tried to keep her voice calm and steady as not to betray the pain her injuries were causing her, but he still winced at the word broken. "It's nothing bad, nothing that even needs any attention. I'll just have to lie low for a while, and we're doing that anyway," she tried to reassure him, but she could tell that it wasn't working.

His face was cold and rigid, didn't move. She could sense guilt tearing him apart inside and a sting of the pain he was feeling flashed across her own soul. She breathed in sharply and wanted to curl up into a ball, but then it was already gone. She grit her teeth and sat up, moving so that she straddled him, their faces incredibly close as he leaned against the headboard. Her shirt had fallen down again but she still shivered, the warmth of his skin so close.

She let the wings of instinct carry her for courage could no longer, her heart racing as she slowly moved to caress his cheek, forcing his eyes on her.

"Stop that," she said softly, her voice raw and not much louder that the whisper of the wind singing on the outside. "It wasn't you." She could tell he was about to argue, but she silenced him with her thumb on his lips. "You held the Soldier back, otherwise I wouldn't be here. You know how I fight, you know how to beat me. Back then you didn't. Otherwise, I wouldn't have only a bruise." Dolores felt his breath on her skin and her heart raced as she sensed the conflict behind his eyes. Even with the gloves, she sensed the fear pulsing through him. Fear of hurting her again, fear of what Hydra could make him, and fear of what the hell his heart was doing. "I'm not afraid of you," she whispered, the pain in his eyes having stolen her voice. "I know you are. But I am not."

"You shouldn't be here," he argued softly, his voice somehow smaller, more fragile than she remembered it. "They can get to me anywhere, and I'll kill you. You have to get away from me, hide alone, you..."

She silenced him with her lips. Her heart raced away without her into the forests and fields, leaving her there, breathless. His lips were soft under her, frozen, and fear took the place of the empty hole where her heart had been. Fear of him pushing her away, of having been wrong, having read him wrong. Of having made a mistake yet again. She shifted her hand from his cheek to his neck, giving him the option to pull back, and she already felt the pain of rejection tumbling into her mind.

It vanished in an instant when she felt his hand moving to rest on the small of her back, pulling her closer. Roses of pure happiness dug their roots into her heart, her hands both moving to feel his body, one resting on his neck, the other moving to caress his face.

Dolores had had her small share of kisses, and none had been like this. None had left her heart racing and her lungs begging for air. None had been so soft, so gentle, slow. None had left her confused which part of them was her and which was James, where he ended and where she began. None left her oblivious to where she was, how long she had stopped breathing. But he did. Never had anything felt so right, like the whole universe had pivoted towards this point, like the whole of quantum physics had evolved and moved to get both of them right here, together.

Eventually, Dolores pulled back, her whole body begging her not to. But the walls were quivering and her mind was racing, unable to uphold them any longer. Also, she didn't want to overwhelm him, or herself at the matter, as the room seemed to be spinning around her. She didn't know where she took the strength to speak from, her mouth seemed to be moving without her, her voice so much calmer, more confident than she felt.

"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured, her thumb brushing over his cheek, making her burn to get closer, or at least lose the gloves. "Not without you." With that, she swung her leg off him and carefully positioned herself as close to him as her ribs would allow, snaking her arm around his waist and one of her legs over his. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep when everything in her screamed to run a thousand kilometers to the stars and dance through the night.

 _..._

Dolores awoke when James pressed his hand over her mouth. Her eyes flew open to see him kneeling next to the bed, his face set and glossed with ice. He motioned her to be quiet and she nodded. Only then did he let go of her face. Trying to make as little noise as possible, Dolores got up, gritting her teeth against the flaring fire from her side. She wanted to tap his shoulder to ask what the hell was going on when she heard it herself. There were steps, coming over the parking lot towards them. The walls of the motel were thin, and Dolores could tell that there were about five people at least walking towards them, trying to sneak as quietly as possible, not being very successful at that.

James already had his and her backpack on, carrying them over each other as his bag was thin and strapped down, and was creeping towards the window. Dolores immediately understood the plan and rolled off the bed, falling onto her feet, her side burning will hellfire. He was wearing combat boots and had a gun by his side, but still made not a sound as he moved. If she hadn't seen him cast in the moonlight that fell through the window, she wouldn't have thought he was still here. Trying to imitate his ghostlike movements, she followed him, keeping her head down.

The steps stopped and shuffled up towards the door. Now with a certain haste to his movements, James pried the window open, somehow managing to move the rundown frame soundlessly. He waved her oven and quickly maneuvered her through the frame and followed, closing the frame behind her. He moved quickly, but not in panic but precision. Each step found exactly the right spot to remain soundless. Once again, Dolores marveled at the lethality that painted his every move. He was a predator that stalked his prey. He knew his terrain, knew and trusted his body to make the right moves and only those, not wasting any unnecessary energy. He kept his eyes ahead but sensed everything, his eyes a thousand miles ahead. Hydra truly had made him a weapon, a machine that worked in perfect deadly harmony to rain death upon its enemy.

Trying her best to keep quiet, Dolores followed James as they crept around the side of the motel, heading towards the parking lot. She jumped when a loud bang echoed behind them and James increased his pace, small rocks crunching beneath his feet. But Dolores understood. Whoever had snuck up to their door so unsuccessfully had just knocked down the door. They were probably filing into the room right now, their own movements deafening them to the small sounds she and James made as the jogged around the corner, hiding in the shadows of the motel.

Two black SUV's were standing in the parking lot and the motel keeper was pressed onto one of them, a man in a black uniform holding him roughly in place. Otherwise, there was nobody else on the parking lot. Everyone else was probably in their room and around the back of the motel. Dolores knew they could have only seconds before they realized where they had gone. James started moving again and Dolores scurried to catch up with him. He pulled her behind the car they had stolen, parked between two other cars.

"Throw a knife. Distract them." His voice was so quiet Dolores would have mistaken it for the wind, had his lips not moved. She didn't allow her eyes to get stuck on their movement and pulled out one of the cheap knives she had gotten used to carrying with her.

The motel keeper was cursing and whining at the hard grip of the soldier holding him. Dolores thought for a second about throwing the knife at him but threw the idea away. They didn't want the soldiers to come outside, they wanted a commotion inside big enough to distract them for the precious few seconds they needed to start the motor and get going. So she turned her attention to the moving mass of men inside the room she had slept in only minutes ago and threw.

A scream echoed from inside the room and James melted into movement. He quickly pulled out his own blade which was much larger than anything she used and slit open the back tires of the two SUV's and the other car parking beside theirs, then he was inside the car so quickly, Dolores hadn't even seen the door move. While shouts and curses sounded from the room and the motel keeper struggled yet again, Dolores got into the back seat, using only the door that was facing away from the room. James quickly got the motor running and within seconds they were racing across the highway. Dolores looked behind her, seeing men in black uniform run onto the streets, distant yelling and cursing soon drowned out by the sound of gunshots as they fired at the car. But no bullet seemed to hit anything essential. Dolores ducked behind the back seats, lying flat across the whole back bench, her knees tucked in.

After half and hour of no shots, an exit came and James veered off the highway. Dolores climbed back onto the front seat and deposited the two backpacks on the back seat in turn. She fought with the seatbelt, but it wouldn't budge. Wrestling with it for a few minutes she eventually gave up and started giggling at the thought of how unsafe driving in the passenger seat without the seat belt was.

She had just survived an ambush by what seemed to be highly trained men, a whole group of them with guns and SUV's. She was running away with a former Hydra Assassin from the second world war, whom she had just kissed, but had had to stop because of her own new superpowers. And here she was worrying about the fucking seat belt.

It was a good ten minutes before James could calm her down enough so that she could breathe and speak again to explain her sudden reaction.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, clutching her burning side. "But I was just worrying about the bloody seatbelt!" James looked at her, puzzled, and Dolores explained her train of thought. "I just survived an ambush by an armed military group in a motel in the middle of nowhere while on the run with a Hydra Assassin from the 1940's from all the governments in the world, the Avengers and an international terrorist organization that originated in a Nazi science division that gave me superpowers. And the first thing I worry about it the bloody seat belt." Now James too was grinning and he seemed to relax a bit as they got onto another highway that was leading them southwest.

"That was amazing by the way," Dolores broke the silence after they had been listening to Halestorm and Saltatio Mortis for an hour. "I mean, you were amazing. I would never have gotten out of there." James concentrated hard on the road, although it was going straight as far as Dolores could see. But she didn't mind and just kept talking, barely noticing his tense silence. "They way you move, it's amazing. I never thought anybody could move so precise or so quiet. I would never have thought of moving louder once they broke down the door, that was really smart. And slicing their tires, I would never have even gotten the idea. No wonder it took them two years and an attack on the UN to find you. That was incredible!"

Eventually, her flow of words died down and he noticed the pensive silence James had sunken into. Worry that she might have said something wrong crept up to her gut.

"You okay?" Her voice seemed to tear him out of his thoughts and he shot her a quick, absentminded smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He paused for a second and his eyes flicked to his left hand on the steering wheel. "I don't think anyone had ever thought of what I do as amazing," he murmured quietly. Dolores' heart sank, but she kept her smile up.

"Well, right now it's a god damn gift! We'd both be dead otherwise." Then she pulled off her gloves, took his hand in hers and made it a concentration exercise to trace patterns on his skin while singing along to the music.


	28. Chapter 28

Day 23, 5:09

Dolores swung her backpack over her back and pulled the straps close. James started walking beside her, abandoning the car that had gotten them so far without another glance. Not wanting to have to run to catch up, Dolores didn't pay the car any further attention either and followed James.

They were on the outskirts of Laredo, Texas, one of the several Texan border towns. There was no way they would be getting the car across the border, so they had decided to walk. Sure, there was a river separating the two countries, but the Winter Soldier had overcome a few of those in his time and they both got across with only minor hassles. Discarding their wet clothes, James pulled his backpack from the plastic bag they had protected them with and got out a new set of clothes for both himself and Dolores.

"You are weirdly prepared for this drop-everything-and-flee-your-country-scenario," she commented after they were both dry again, the wet clothes now in the plastic bags and the backpacks secure on their backs. James just shrugged, his eyes scanning the city before them, already moving to vanish between the houses. He'd told her that they'd ideally get another car and get out of the city so that the report for the stolen car would come in before the report for the abandoned one.

"I like being prepared. Decreases the chance of mistakes."

"Makes sense. From the city center of the outskirts?" she asked when she followed his eyes inspecting the vehicles that they were passing.

"Outskirts. The center is too close to the patrols in case I do set an alarm off."

Dolores had never realized how heavily the border of her country was fortified until now when she was trying to get across it illegally. However, she was sure it would be much harder crossing it the other way. They found a car after an hour of walking. Dolores had begun getting nervous after they had come across the first people on their way to work and was relieved when she sunk into the seat behind the tinted windows. James seemed to know where he was going and Dolores didn't bother asking. It made no difference if she knew where they were going, she wouldn't know the place anyway. She trusted James to know what he was doing, where he was taking them. He had far more experience with this than she had.

To kill the time during the drive, Dolores had James try to talk to her in Russian. She only understood half of what he was telling her and she had to continuously remind him to slow down but like that she'd get a feel for sentence structure and grammar, something she couldn't learn when she was only learning vocabulary.

Eventually, Dolores fell asleep without noticing it, the strain of hunger and swimming across the border getting to her. She had had some food in her backpack, having packed a small picknick before going to the graveyard, a nice idea that had never made the jump into reality. She had forced James to eat some, but he refused to eat as the food was running low, no begging on her part able to make him change his mind. She awoke when they were driving out of a city, small white houses scurrying past her, the street leading them onwards into the desert. To their left, a mountain rose, green plants making it stand out from the rest of the city.

"La Silla. Natural Reserve," James explained quietly, concentrating on the traffic ahead. The sun was high in the sky and Dolores was glad they'd only wrecked the radio, not the air conditioning.

"Where are we?"

"Monterrey, Mexico. It's three hours south of Laredo. It's a little too big for us though." Dolores now curiously peered around at the white houses around her. She had never been to Mexico, after Nessy's death her urge to travel had died down and she had never even left the state after that.

"I thought we were going for a city?"

"Yeah, but Monterrey is a city of over a million. That means the class divide is physical. Meaning we'll stand out in any cheap place and I'd rather not find work as an illegal American immigrant." Dolores nodded and turned her gaze from the window beside her to the one ahead.

"Makes sense. Where are we going then?"

"Half an hour south is another city, Ciudad de Allende. It's smaller but close enough to Monterrey. Monterrey is too close to the US border, there are lots of drugs and the corresponding gangs here. People won't notice if we steal a little food when the supermarket's blown to pieces." Dolores glanced over at him, impressed. Seeing the dark circles beneath his eyes she wondered when he had last slept.

"That's genius. How do you know all of this? Not like we can just use a phone to google." James stared ahead, a dark look flashing across his face.

"Hydra had me here a few times. Destabilize order, break out a few drug lords, kill the right people."

"Oh." Dolores looked down at her hands and peeled the gloves off, revealing the soft pale skin of her hands. She sensed the bitterness in him as he thought about the destruction he had caused and she couldn't quite help feeling the same as she looked down on her hands. There were still some light pink scars from her almost fall from the tower and she traced them softly. A thought flashed across her mind and she looked up again, watching the city pass.

"Maybe you should write it down. You know, what you remember. Like that, you won't have to keep it in your head." James frowned and changed lanes to avoid having to turn right. "What?"

"I'd rather not relive those things. It's enough I remember them once." This silenced her and Dolores forced herself to look out of the window as not to raise his suspicions towards the stab she felt in her heart. She felt like a silly little child trying to help grown up with its plastic toys. Here she was, trying to help him, stumbling around his mind, tripping, and falling. She knew nothing of the things he had faced, of the nightmares he had seen, nothing at all of the depths to which his soul was broken. She was so ignorant, trying to help him, who had seen horrors she couldn't even begin to imagine. How was she even to attempt healing something she couldn't even vaguely understand. An unearthing helplessness washed over her.

Before James could notice however, he seemed to spot something by the side of the road. He threaded the car quickly through the flowing traffic towards an open space where other run down cars were parked.

"Take everything. We'll walk from here. Loose the car, any way to track us," he instructed as he jumped out of the car and walked towards a man with brown skin and several missing teeth. Dolores, though not too happy to be walking around with a backpack in the blazing midday heat of late summer Mexico, saw the reason in the plan. She got their two backpacks and stuffed the few things they had unpacked back before jumping out of the car and making her way towards James who was seemingly discussing with the man in a speed she could just barely follow. They were arguing about the worth of the car. James argued that it was perfectly fine and new, but the man held the fact of the missing keys against that. Eventually, he handed over a few bills whose worth Dolores didn't catch and happily walked towards the car.

James stuffed the bills into his backpack and the took her hand, pulling her from the parking lot onto the street. Dolores closed the straps on her backpack and pulled them close, leveling out the weight onto her whole body. Then she followed him blindly, focusing on the heat above and the weight on her back. She knew they'd be walking for a long time so she concentrated on everything that might make things easier.

James beside her seemed to be having none of those concerns. His step was light and quick as usual, his eyes constantly gliding up and down the street, locking for a heartbeat an anybody coming their way. Dolores could feel his tension, but also a certain calm. These were his waters. He knew what was coming, what to do and what to expect. This was what his life had been before, he knew how to handle this.

They walked for what seemed like hours to Dolores. Her feet hurt and her back was aching, her hair seemed on fire and she was sure she had a sunburn. The sun was already dipping low, greeted by the horizon with a vast pillow of colors. Suddenly James came to a halt before her and Dolores almost ran into him, stopping her tired momentum only a millimeter before him. She only noticed he had turned around when he took her face into his hands and helped her aching neck muscles look up at him. His eyes were full of concern and right now she was too tired to care about being strong, about how they had to move and how they couldn't really afford her being tired. But that lasted only for a second, then she scolded herself and pushed herself upright. She was being selfish. They had to move, had to hide or they'd both be dead or worse.

"You are tired," he muttered, the metal of his thumb brushing over her skin beautifully cool.

"I'm fine. We need to keep moving."

"Too slow," a dark voice growled behind her. James' eyes flew up and for a split second she could see the surprise in his eyes. Then he threw her to the ground and ducked as the first bullet flew. Dolores flew around. There was a man at the entrance to the alley they had entered, and about five more behind him. James had reached the first man and was using him as a shield to absorb the shots of the others.

For a second, Dolores got caught up in his movements, the angry deadliness that formed his every step, then she snapped to her senses. She had to get out of here. She might have trained and gotten to Steve or James a few times, but she was not prepared for this. She wasn't foolish enough to think that she might be of any use. Anything she could do would make them scream and right now they were in an extremely crowded city. Having six men scream their lungs out in agony was the absolute last resort. So she scrambled to her feet and looked around for a place to hide. Before she could dive for the dumpsters she had picked out, a man yelled and a projectile flew.

Dolores ducked and looked around for James who had gotten three men to the ground and was handling the other three okay, but she was too slow. The dumpster slammed into her with the force of the grenade as it exploded. Her ears exploded in pain as she was crushed between the two dumpsters. Heat washed over her and the metal she was trapped by became searing hot and boiled her blood. The fire rolled over her and Dolores thought she might melt, burn up into ash. Then, suddenly, after what felt like an eternity of fire and death and pain tearing into her, she was yanked out of the heat, her body flung around like a ragdoll. She tried to open her eyes to see what was going on, but she only got a blurry image of something whirling around before her. She tried to concentrate, tried to think, but the pain in her ears and her shoulders where the metal dumpsters had fried her overpowered every conscious effort.

Eventually, the whirling before her stopped and a figure came closer. Panic washed over her and Dolores scrambled backward, blinked a thousand times a seconds in hopes to see. Then a cold hand grabbed her arm, softly, but the burns made the touch unbearable. The hand quickly moved from her arm to her mouth and Dolores only now noticed that she had been screaming. James' face came into view, blurry around the edges but slowly sharpening. He was saying things to her, but Dolores couldn't make it out over the pain and the ringing in her ears. She did her best to help him as he pulled her up and quickly dragged her off to somewhere. Dolores couldn't tell where they were going. She only noticed things getting darker suddenly as if the sun had been blocked out. She was pushed down onto something strangely soft and she felt herself lying down. Only when she looked up at the grey thing above her did she comprehend that they were in a building.

She tried to look around, tried to find out something over the roaring of fire in her head, but all she could feel was a sudden coolness pressing itself to her arms. Her eyes shuddered close at the relief from the pain and she breathed a sigh of relief.

...

When Dolores woke up, the first thing she noticed was that she was alone. The second was the pain, flaring through her body from her shoulders. Her whole body was aching and her shoulders roared in flaming pain as she lifted them to inspect them, while a dagger seemed to stab her head. Her shirt was gone, she discovered it cut up and crumpled next to the moldy mattress she was lying on. Her arms were bandaged and she could tell that whoever had done this had done so in a hurry.

Dolores looked around, taking in her situation, her panic rising as she did so. James wasn't here. His backpack was gone which might mean he was out getting some supplies. She was hurt, seriously, her arms were killing her with every breath and her head seemed to want to kill her, but it didn't stop there. She didn't know where she was, didn't know how she'd gotten here. This wouldn't have been a problem had James been here, but he wasn't. Dolores could feel her panic rising and concentrated on breathing. _Easy girl. One thing at a time._ She had to treat her wounds first. With that concern out of her head, she could worry about everything else. _Body first, it's what's keeping you alive. Be nice to it_. Dolores almost smiled when the words she'd told Nessy so long ago popped into her head.

Gingerly Dolores peeled the bandages off her left arm first. She almost hurled when she saw the damage done before she could compose herself. She stared at the wound and forced herself to not look away. She was a doctor for heaven's sake! But somehow it was different having to treat her own wound. Her skin was an angry red and it was torn and ripped in places, charred black at the edges. She guessed a second-degree, nothing fatal, actually, not even that bad. Of course, having it on both upper arms was unpractical and bad, but the wound itself she could deal with.

She turned her attention to her head and allowed herself to feel the pain. Flames seared through her brain and scrambled her thoughts, tearing them into glowing little ashen shreds. Dolores forced herself to breathe. 5 seconds in, 7 seconds out. She concentrated, looked at the fire within her skull, dissected it, drew it apart until she could tell that is wasn't coming from the inside, most likely she had another burn there.

Looking around the room, Dolores spotted a small door. Wincing and gritting her teeth she climbed to her feet. The room spun around her and Dolores bit her tongue as she tumbled against a wall with her back. She stood there, breathing, biting back the pain, until her circulatory system had accepted that she had to move.

She struggled over to the door and to her relief, a relatively clean bathroom was behind it. She decided to figure out where exactly she was, but right now, she had at least three wounds to take care of. In the bathroom, a flickering bathroom light highlighted a distraught pale woman in a black bra, painfully red arms and a bleeding right skull. Dolores shuddered. She looked terrible. Ignoring her pale face, fatty hair and look of death, she leaned closer to the mirror and started inspecting the wound on her skull.

This was also a burn, although it seemed to be worse than the ones on her arm. Dolores sighed and tears drove to her eyes at the continuously pounding pain. Okay. Pain. She turned back to the room and gave up on holding back her tears of pain as she dragged her backpack to the bathroom and opened the first aid kit. She noted that many of the gauzes and bandages were missing and a pang of worry stopped her heart. James was hurt as well. Where the hell was he?

Dolores forced herself to focus. She had to fix herself up first, then she could worry about James and everything else. First, Dolores took out the little bottle of painkillers. She had filled them up out of habit and was very thankful for that now, as she'd be needing them for quite some time with those burns.

It was then that her thoughts froze. And suddenly, silence pressed upon her. It had been there the whole time, but only now did she really notice it. The complete utter silence. She hadn't noticed it over the pain, but now she did and her heart froze to ice. She was in a huge city, James couldn't have gotten her that far from Monterrey without a car, not far enough for it to be this silent. Her memory flashed back to what she last remembered, a booming sound and flaring heat and she started shaking. Her body shook at the terror of the thought as her hand trembled towards the bottle with the pills again. She didn't need to shake it, her hand did it for her. And no sound came forth. The bottle slipped from her hand and Dolores screamed, but neither the impact of the bottle, not the sound of her voice reached her.

The blast of the grenade had shredded her eardrums.

Her heart raced in terror and less and less oxygen seemed to come to her. Dolores stumbled backward, her back slamming into the open door behind her and she slid down to the floor. Her mind was swirling like her brain was in a mixer, the rotating blades piercing everything. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She seemed stuck, like a fly to honey and time tore and ripped at her as it's unwilling ticks forced her onwards. Tears streamed down her face and Dolores sobbed, no sound coming from her lips, only silence. The silence deafened her, wrapped around her like a suffocating blanket and took away all the oxygen until her brain was numb. She felt nothing anymore, all the energy was gone, like the heartbeat of the world around her.

It was the pain from her head and arms that brought her back. She had to keep going. She could get help, she could find a way to fix this. But for that, she had to survive. And to survive, she needed to heal her body. She didn't feel herself standing up. Her body moved without her, her mind too terrified of the prospects of having to deal with the situation to come out of its closet of numbness and frozen terror. She moved without it, no thought crossing her mind as she swallowed two pills and got to work.

She turned on the water and set it to a low but comfortable temperature, anything too cold would damage what was left of her skin. Then she started with her left arm, cupping water in her hand and letting it run down her arm. It was wonderfully cool, but she only noticed that at the very edge of her mind. Her head felt like a giant plane, empty and voice, no thought daring to tread on its echoing ground. Only at the very edge, a few thought hung. How she had to be careful with how she moved, how cool the water was running all over her body, how she had to be quiet as she didn't know where she was, whether there were people around, how she had to keep an eye on the door as she wouldn't hear it opening anymore. At the center of her mind was nothing but surgical precision. The doctor with the white coat and the plastic gloves roamed the plane alone and watched over her movements.

When her left arm was cooled and cleaned until the flesh glistened with moisture, Dolores ripped open a few gauzes and softly placed them on the raw skin. Washing her arm with only her hand as a cup had taken long enough for the painkillers to set in, and she barely felt the soft sting of the open wound. Then she wrapped a bandage lightly around her arm, not pressing down on the wound, just enough to keep the gauzes in place and cover the arm to protect it from the cloth of her shirt. Then she turned to her left arm to repeat the procedure.

After about two hours, she had finished with her arms. Next, she turned to her head. Leaning over the basin, Dolores pulled her hair all to her left ear and tied it together to keep it out of place. Then she used the scissors to cut off any remaining patches of hair that were too close around the wound. Shaving would have been better, but that was too dangerous considering the state of her arms. So she cut it as short as possible and then repeated the rinsing process for her head, being supremely careful not to get any water in her ears. She didn't know what exactly had happened to them so she wasn't going to have them full of water anytime soon. After cleaning the burn on her skull, she put on a gauze and wrapped a bandage around it, again only loosely to keep any dirt from entering and the gauze from moving.

With the surgical part of her being done with its work, Dolores inspected herself in the mirror. She looked horrible. She kept her focus on that, hoping concentrating on the mess she was would keep her mind off the obvious problem. The bandages came white of her skin, her eyes were sunken and she was pale with fear and pain. Her hair was a dirty fatty mess and she made the effort to braid it to hide that fact. She felt sticky and sweaty and dirty, and the more she looked at her exposed body, the worse the feeling got, until she gathered up her cut up shirt, washed it out and did a cat wash. It didn't help much, but with all the bandaging, showering was so out of question. She rinsed those body parts that would allow it with water and wrapped the wet shirt around her hair a few times to help with the dust. It worked a little after feeling somewhat satisfied with the result, she even turned to carefully washing her outer ears, cleaning out the blood the grenade damage had set free. Then, when she was somewhat pleased with her state of cleanliness, she turned back to the room. The empty room.

James wasn't here. She had spent probably good four hours, fumbling around, caring for her wounds and cleaning up and judging by the small window that was up on a wall of the room, it was nighttime. Dolores tried to calm herself, told herself that only made sense. Stealing at night was easier than during the day, or even buying with the money the car had earned them was safer at night. The attack had only shown how easily they could be spotted, it was probably safer to do even legal things during nighttime when shop attendants were tired and fewer people walked the streets. Still, it stung that he wasn't here when she had awoken. She could have used his help, especially with the condition she was in now, and it hurt that he wasn't there to comfort her. She pushed those thoughts out of her head. She could be sentimental when they were both safe and away from Hydra.

Instead of worrying about James, Dolores decided to try and figure out where she was to pass the time until he came back. The pain meds were working their wonders and she took a special effort not to move her arms. She had a distinct feeling they wouldn't be given their time to heal, so she did what she could for them now. She was glad the throbbing in her skull also had subsided so she could concentrate better on the task at hand.

Working hard to keep her mind either completely empty or filled to the brim with thoughts, Dolores decided within minutes that she must be in some kind of servant quarters of a bigger house. Since she had screamed and nobody had come, she presumed the house to be empty, but as it was not badly maintained, it hadn't been in that state for long and was probably not going to remain that way either. Meaning they couldn't stay her indefinitely and that she had to be quiet. It was lucky no people were viewing the house at the time of her discovery, and she couldn't take that chance in the future.

Dolores sat back down onto the mattress. Now with her location figured out, she had nothing left to keep her mind of the one thought that had been looking over her like a dark beast, ready to leap at her as soon as she let her guard down. Taking a deep breath, Dolores allowed herself to turn her thoughts to the silence that roared around her.

It wasn't an absolute silence, there were a few sounds that drowned like white noise in the back of her conscience. She could hear a soft rushing noise that coursed at the bottom of her brain. Listening to it for a while, Dolores figured it was her blood. Accompanied by that sound, the regular beating of her heart lingered in the back of her mind. Listening to it for a while, Dolores was overwhelmed by the soothing effects the sounds of her body were having on her. It almost took her mind off the fact that this damage was permanent. Eardrums weren't just some flap of skin, they were delicate organs that, once destroyed, couldn't be replaced.

No panic overcame her at the thought. It seemed like the part of her fighting for survival had overpowered the emotional part of her. There was no point panicking, not now, not when they weren't safe. They could fuss about the damage done when they had nothing else to worry about.

Dolores thought about what she could do, what might help them, but eventually decided that the best she could do right now was rest, let her body heal and wait for James. So she sat back, making herself as comfortable as possible, and waited. She let her mind drift and eventually reached a comfortably meditative state of mental blankness, in which she remained. Like this, after a few hours, the stress of patching herself up and the panic of discovering what had been done took their toll and she fell asleep.


	29. Chapter 29

Day 25, 9:47

Dolores began to panic when she woke up again and she was still alone. Figuring by the window and the return of the pain, it was morning, and James still wasn't here. She got up to take another painkiller while her mind raced. He couldn't be out again, he'd never be this inefficient, so something must have happened. Dolores tugged at the bandages to make sure they were fastened correctly, then she waited for the pain meds to kicking in to wash with her torn shirt again. She even carefully rinsed out the lower parts of her hair in the sink using the handsome that must have been a thousand years old, making her feel cleaner than she had felt in days.

It was when she turned back to the room that she noticed the crumpled piece of paper on the floor where her shirt had been yesterday. A sense of dread filled her, the fear that this paper might just be confirming her worst fears. That he had been too confident, had taken a stupid risk and was lying somewhere, captured of dying, and she couldn't help him.

Her hands shook as she took up the paper and she sank to the mattress as she let her eyes fly over the scrawny writing.

 _Dot, when you read this I won't be with you. I'm far away by now and I won't come back, so don't wait. I have been selfish to stay near you all this time, and now you have paid the price for my idiocy. I won't let them hurt you anymore._

 _Call Steve, he can get you and keep you safe from Hydra. Stark Tower is safe as long as I'm not in it, so use that. Say the truth, how Hydra came after you too, be the victim, then they won't bother with you over finding me._

 _I hope I can see you again when this is all over._

 _James_

Dolores sat on the mattress, dumbstruck. When finally her body reacted, anger came first. She wanted to tear the paper to shreds and flung it across the room to salvage it from her own anger. How could he? How could he just leave her here after all they had been through together, after all she had revealed to him, after that night in the motel?! Betrayal burned her heart and Dolores felt tears and sobs rise in her. No! She wasn't going to shed a tear over him, not now anyway. She balled her hands into fists, her nails digging deep into her flesh.

Then, after the anger, the mantra she had instilled so deep into herself that it managed to suppress the burning feeling of betrayal cutting into her soul. Try to understand. It was his way of taking care of her. He had taken her to safety, had patched her up as best as he could and had then drawn the enemy away from her. It was sweet in a very grotesque way. But that's what years of Hydra training and conditioning had done to him. For them, he had been a weapon, a lethal asset that brought death and destruction at his master's will. After over half a century of being used like that, of course, he'd consider himself dangerous.

When her anger had boiled down to a reasonable level and she had managed to make herself understand his reasoning, she turned her thoughts to finding him. Like hell she was calling Steve. She wouldn't just leave him alone. She wasn't helpless, if at all, she was far more deadly than he was. And as her heart burned in anger and hurt, she knew she couldn't just let him go. Not after all he had given her, not after saving her life again and again. So, how to find a highly skilled assassin that the governments of the world hadn't been able to find in a city she didn't know with Hydra in her back and one of her senses permanently ruined.

After an hour of thinking this way and that way, she eventually allowed resignation to wash over her. There was no chance she'd find him. Not on her own, not with Hydra hunting both of them. Sure, she was somewhat smart and okay at combat, but there was no way she'd find an assassin that didn't want to be found. After fighting her tears of betrayal and hurt, she tried to calm herself down enough to think clearly. She was wounded in a foreign country, on her own and with one of her more important senses gone. She'd stand no chance, not on her own. James was right. The only thing she could do was call Steve.

Wanting to murder someone, Dolores turned to looking for her phone in her backpack. She took out an extra shirt James must have stuffed in there, her watercolor shit she had packed for the picnic that had never happened, the bundle of money James had left her with and a few empty food packages. But no phone. Dolores searched through every compartment at least three times, but couldn't find her phone. First, panic struck her, but then her face split in a grin. James had it. He had taken his backpack with him and she had stuffed her phone in there after packing up hastily to get out of the car. And the best part was, it was on! She had turned it on to give the motel worker her phone number and had just left it on, figuring they would have given up on tracing it.

It was all Dolores could do not to jump up and run out immediately. She had to be careful about this. She had no idea how far she would have to travel, and Hydra was still after her. Also, if she was going to move and exercise, she had to prepare herself, staring with her wounds. Burns healed slowly as there was no skin left to heal. The best way to ensure safe and fast recovery was a skin transplant. Dolores shuddered at the implications of that. Then she got up and moved to the bathroom. She was a surgeon, God dammit, she could do this!

Quickly, the smell of disinfectant calmed her in the way only surgical equipment could and she moved methodically and efficiently. Quickly she had taken out all the things she'd need and had cleaned and cleared the toilet and the sink. Then she sat down and started.

Picking up a black marker that was usually part of her inking set, she drew the shape on the exposed skin of her upper leg. She made sure to make the shape nice and big so the marker stains wouldn't be too close to the wound she was about to create. Next, she took of the syringe of local anesthetic she had prepared and, putting on plastic gloves, gave herself tiny injections over the whole area, numbing it to the cuts that were to follow. She waited until the area was numb, then she took up the scalpel and the calm that came with the little blade overtook her as she started the first cut into her own flesh.

After half an hour of carefully skinning her leg, Dolores finally had freed the patch of skin she needed. Now she had to work fast. Usually, skin for transplants was placed in a solution that kept it moist and clean. She didn't have such a luxury, so she had to hurry. Working quickly and efficiently, she disinfected the new square wound and wrapped it up with a clean bandage and gauze. Using the numbness of the wound to her advantage, she quickly got up and, drenching the gauze she had dabbed the blood away with in water, carefully loosened the gauze stuck to the burn in her skull. She ripped open the plastic package she had layer out on the skin and took out the thin mesh that was drenched in a nutrient solution. Then she carefully draped the new patch of skin over the open burn, too concentrated to notice the grotesqueness of the situation. Then she out the mesh on top. The nutrient solution would keep the wound wet and aid the healing process. Cleaning up the blood from around the wound she put on a fresh gauze and a bandage, making sure not to apply too much pressure.

Now that the absolute concentration required for surgery faded, her whole body started trembling. Her knees gave away under her and Dolores slid down the wall, tears and panic forcing their way up her throat. Longing tore her heart apart and anger and hatred for Hydra did the same to her mind. Her breath came in ragged heaps and had it not been for the searing pain in her side from her two broken ribs, she would have allowed herself the nervous breakdown. But the heavy breathing that came with hyperventilating was too much for her chest so she closed her eyes and concentrated on staying calm. She had to calm down, had to keep it together. She couldn't loose it, not now when she was alone, not in her condition.

When she was sure that she had her nerves under her control, Dolores got up and cleaned away the mess, packing what she could still use back into the backpack. Then she looked out of the window and decided that, since it was already midday, she'd rest up for today and track James down tomorrow. Like that, she'd have the whole day tomorrow and her new wound would have a few hours to rest and harden before she'd put any pressure on it.

Falling back into the meditative state from yesterday was much harder now that she had a plan and an actual idea what to do. But eventually, even her heart itching to get moving now accepted that it was better to rest up for now and she fell asleep eventually.

...

The next morning, Dolores was once more awoken by pain. She got up to take the pill and then looked around, wanting to make absolutely sure she wouldn't leave anything behind. However, the jittering excitement that sat next to her heart like a little chirping bird, not able to wait to get moving, hopped around and urged her to finally move.

When she stepped out of the door to the room and onto a set of stairs Dolores once again became aware of the main problem she'd be facing. Her steps were soundless. And that wasn't because she had become a ninja overnight, despite the bandanna around her head hinting at such. No, the bandana was the remainder of her shirt she had wrapped around her head to conceal the bandage and her steps were as loud as ever. Taking a deep and shaky breath, which was the only thing that betrayed her true fear at the thing she was about to do, she started climbing the stairs. She had a small plastic bag with painkillers in one of the pockets of her cargos as she'd need them every six hours and didn't want to take the actual bottle since she wouldn't hear it rattling.

On top of the stairs was another door. It was open and stepping through, Dolores found herself in a small passage. To her left it lead to grass, probably the garden, to her right was an iron gate behind which there was a street. She turned to the gate and saw that it was locked with a padlock. To her surprise, the padlock was open and she slipped through, hoping the gate didn't screech. James bad probably left the lock open when he had abandoned her to make it easier for Steve to get to her. Well, good for her. Pulling her backpack closer and hooking her thumbs into the straps to keep her arms as steady as possible she set out down the street.

She had to find a way to access an online computer. Her first thought was finding an apple store or the likes, but she threw that idea away as she spotted a small cafe advertising with internet access after an hour of walking in silence. It unnerved her to see the cars rushing past her and not hear the coming, to have dogs barking and people talking and hear nothing but her racing heart. By the time she had stepped into the confines of the cafe she was ready to break down and cry.

But not now. The Dolores from 26 days ago would have done so, but not anymore. She couldn't afford it. She had to find James. Then she could break. Not now. So she pulled herself together and stepped up to the counter, just barely ready to face the next challenge. Ordering in a foreign language without being able to hear herself or the answer.

It turned out to be easier than she had anticipated. When the woman behind the counter greeted her, Dolores smiled apologetically and explained in rather slow and probably incorrect Spanish that she couldn't hear, gesturing to her ear. The woman looked at her with an expression of mild shock, then she seemed to apologize. Gesturing around at the shop, she then shot Dolores a quizzical look. Dolores then ordered a sandwich, picking one behind the glass at random and gestured over to the computers. The woman gave her the sandwich ad tapped her watch, then showed her ten fingers. Dolores nodded, ten minutes would be well enough for tracking her phone. Looking for the words, she slowly asked the woman whether she would be able to print one page and the woman nodded. Then she typed some things into the cash register and turned the little screen to show Dolores the number. Dolores quickly pulled out a twenty pesos note and just turned, leaving the woman with the return change. Armed with her sandwich she sat down at the computer, pushing it out of sight to be able to refrain room eating it straight away. She was starving as she hadn't eaten in probably three days, but she didn't want to damage the computer with fat or loose crumbs.

Finding her phone was astonishingly easy. She quickly found the right page and printed out the route to it with the woman's help. The page also showed that she still had 12% charge left, but she didn't care about that. The phone was in a house on the very edge of Cuidad de Allende, and the track record showed that it hadn't moved for the last day. James had found a place to lie low, at least for a while. Which meant that she had to hurry. She thanked the woman and ran out into the street with her sandwich and her map, hailing a passing taxi with the latter. There was no way she'd get to another city on foot and having burns out in the heat wasn't as good either.

The taxi driver proved to be very friendly. He too gave her that sorry shocked look after she explained that she couldn't hear him and mumbled an excuse. To her surprise, Dolores found that she knew rather well what he was saying, picking up lip reading very fast in combination with her already sharpened skill of reading faced and people. She gave him a street close to where she needed to go as she didn't want to give her location right away and then leaned back, watching the city pass. James had been at least somewhat correct, whoever had attacked them in the alley hadn't caused her any other problems so far. From the recklessness of their attacks, Dolores assumed it had been a UN team, as Hydra would want them alive. It felt strange having three such powerful enemies, but it only pushed her closer to James. They had to stick together, even he couldn't handle Hydra, the UN, and the Avengers. Again anger rose in her like a never subdued flame but she breathed it away. She could be angry when she was safe and with him. Not now. She had to keep a cool head, had to stay alert.

Bucky was restless. Had been ever since he had left Dot, but it was getting worse with the pain. He had tried to use as little as possible from Dot's medical stuff, just enough to keep from bleeding out. He knew he had done a bad Job with her burns and had tried to leave her as much to work with as possible. He himself had only sustained one shallow shot wound and a graze. He had managed to peel out the bullet from the shot at his hip and had bandaged both to his best ability. But since he had not taken any of those little pills she took against the pain, he was gritting his teeth to function with any resemblance to normality. He had had his share of shot wounds, he knew the pain he was feeling right now was nowhere near the worst. It was an annoying sting that would be healed in a week. But still, for now, it was hurting like hell and the searing sun wasn't making it any better. He had come out of the abandoned house he had been hiding in in hopes of clearing his mind. In there he felt like his mind was burning up in a pyre of memories, both old and new. The images of Dot mixed with those if a hundred faces twisted in pain. He couldn't think straight in there. And he had to think to get out of this. He had to figure out a way to get out of Hydras grasp, had to figure out a way to clear his name. That was the only way he could ever go back to Dot and that was the one thing he was sure about, the one thought that never wavered inside that hellhole in there. He wanted, more than anything he could remember wanting, to get back to Dot.

So he had scrambled out here into the heat, hoping the sun burning on his skin together with the pain from two bullet wounds would give his mind too much to handle any more convoluted thoughts. As he squinted at the horizon behind which he knew the city waited for him, ready to eat him alive like a beast with a thousand teeth, he thought that maybe he had overestimated his body. He saw a dark figure walking towards him with a light feminine step. He thought he knew the shape, the way she walked, the way the sun kissed the copper of her hair, but he knew that couldn't be. Still, he couldn't help but think beautiful. There was something about her figure approaching him, about the anger in her face, about her hands clenched into fists that drew the words fallen archangel into his mind in deep dark ink.

She evaded a few cacti with dark grace and approached his sitting form. His feet and knees were screaming in agony as he had been kneeling on the dusty earth since dawn. He saw her fist, his body twitching to move, to evade before he even knew it, but he sat still, frozen in awe at the terrible beauty of her anger.

The pain of her fist in his jaw was enhanced by the other two wounds searing to life as he fell, his balance disturbed.

"That was for thinking you could just go alone like that," she yelled, her voice shrill with an anger he had never heard there before. Her anger frightened him. He had seen her angry before, but never at him. Fear that he had made a mistake pulled tightly around his chest. What if he had gone too far? What if, even if he managed to get out of Hydras grasp, she wouldn't want him back now? He turned, careful not to move his shoulder too much as not to shift the bandage around the graze at the bottom of his neck, and squinted at the sun. He could only make out her shadow and it was not enough to detect the measure of her anger. She bent down and he prepared for more pain, tensing instinctively so he wouldn't fall again.

But the pain didn't come. Instead, he felt her fingers brushing the bandage and winced at the prospect of the pain radiating through his skull intensifying.

"Okay. Come on, let's get you inside. I can't carry you, you'll have to get up." Her voice which had been the roar of a dragon before was now soft and gentle like her touch on his shoulder as she guided his movements. He forced is body up, the new wounds roaring in agony and stumbled to a stand on his numb legs. He was thankful for her arms which wrapped around his metal one as his legs were numb from sitting and his mind fogged with pain and the confused musings of his heart.

The cooling shade of the building was a relief and Bucky hadn't noticed how fiercely the sun had burned on his skin until now that it was gone. Dot pushed him down onto the chair that had been left behind by the previous owners of the house and went to get her backpack. Bucky was surprised to see that she was pushing it towards him with her feet, showing no regard to how loud that was. But then he remembered her burnt arm. He wondered how bad they hurt that she would rather make so much noise than use her arms. She propped the bag up on a pile of rubble and bricks and opened the compartment with the medical supplies. Her hands now hidden beneath plastic gloves. She turned back to him, her eyes on the bandage by at his neck.

"Anything else, or just that?" Her voice was soft and she looked up at him, expecting an answer. Somehow that struck him as strange. Usually, she would fully concentrate on his wounds, not be looking at him once until she was finished. Pushing that thought aside he gritted his teeth against the pain the rolling up of his sleeve would cause and showed her the thick bandaging on his lower arm. With that comforting calm she always had whenever she was taking care of his wounds, she nodded and started loosening the bandage at his neck.

"That one bled a lot," he warned her. Dolores pulled back and looked at him.

"Come again?" She furrowed her brows and looked at him, waiting for him to repeat himself. Again, this willingness to pause and wait and waste time struck him as very strange.

"That wound, it bled a lot," he repeated, somewhat puzzled by her behaviors.

"Oh, okay. Thanks." She turned back to the bandage, quickly getting it off, carefully tugging it off the gauze that was lying directly on the wound. He winced as the gauze moved and shot flaring pain through this skull. Dolores looked up and abandoned her efforts in favor of handing him a small plastic bag with what he recognized to be the painkillers. He swallowed one of the little tablets and looked back up at her, not quite sure what do. He could see that the calm she was showing was only a superficial layer, like the plastic gloves, but he couldn't tell what lay beneath.

"The meds will kick in in like fifteen minutes. Don't move 'till then," she instructed. When he had nodded his consent, she sank to the floor with an exhausted sigh. She let her face fall into her hands and sat there in silence. Unsure how to react or what to do Bucky sat still like she had told him to. But when a quiet, almost silent sob rocked her shoulders, he couldn't resist the urge to take her into his arms anymore. At his touch on her shoulder, she looked up. There were no tears on her face but that didn't do much to soothe his worry. Something was wrong with her and by now he wanted to tear himself to shreds for leaving her. "How's the pain?" she asked softly. Over worrying about her he had actually forgotten about that and now as he felt for it, the searing sting had been reduced to a subtle throbbing that he barely registered.

"Gone," he murmured and Dot got to her feet. He didn't want her to spend so much energy caring for his wounds had she was clearly exhausted, but he knew there was no way to talk her out of that and maybe if he let her take care of him, she'd talk to him. So he leaned his head to allow her better access to the graze and used the time it took to get the gauze off by wetting it, disinfecting the open wound and bandaging it much better than he'd done as an excuse to be close to her, closing his eyes and simply enjoying her soft touch on his skin since he didn't know how much longer he'd get to do that.

Much sooner than he'd have liked she was finished and moved away from her standing between his legs and sat back down on a brick next to him to unwrap his arm. Since he had already gotten the bullet out she only had to clean and stitch it up before applying the new bandage. Her hands lingered on his for a moment, then the momentum that away took hold of her whenever she was patching him up took hold of her and she stood up. James inspected the knot on his bandage and had to thank his reflexes that he caught the package she threw him.

"Got that on the way here. Eat. You haven't eaten in days." Dolores had had the thought when she had finished her own sandwich on the way here and had passed a supermarket, still hungry. She had bought a few more sandwiches and some sweet stuff, as well as some food that would last a while, canned stuff. She sat down with her own second helping and leaned against the raw wall of the house, for the first time in over thirty-six hours. She didn't close her eyes, that habit of seeking rest in the darkness behind her closed eyelids had vanished pretty quickly. That darkness wasn't comforting anymore, it was not the gateway to an empty void that swallowed her whole.

James looked at her, concern etched all over his face. Being able to see his side of things had made her anger with him vanish quickly and right now she was just glad she was with him again. When she had found him, he had looked the way she had felt, exhausted, in pain and confused. Hitting had been unintentional, but her anger had gotten the best of her and she'd figured he could take it. She still had no idea what he had said about the wound that was so terrifyingly close to his neck. She'd done well so far with lip reading because what the other person had been predictable, but by the look on his face, he knew something was up and she wouldn't be able to hide it much longer. He said something, his mouth barely moving and she had no idea what he'd said. But he expected an answer.

An indescribable mortifying fear overtook her as her thoughts raced away. She would never hear his voice again. Ever since he had read to her, she had noticed how soft his voice was, how beautiful. She'd never hear it again. She'd never hear antibodies voice again. Understanding people, just like that, differentiating them with closed eyes would be impossible from now on. She'd never get that back.

Tears drove to her eyes and Dolores clasped her hand over her mouth as not to make a sound. She wouldn't know how loud she was, she couldn't risk that. Before she knew it James was there, with her, his arms around her pulling her close to his warm body. He pulled back his face full of fear and confusion and a question he'd just asked.

"I can't hear you," she forced out between sobs, her lungs moving painfully beneath her broken ribs, even through the meds. "I think the grenade shredded my eardrums, I can't hear anything!"


	30. Chapter 30

Day 27, 10:35

Dolores, once again, awoke to pain. Her head, her arms, her brain, her ribs, everything was flaring in fire. Noticing her squirm in pain, James handed her a painkiller. Of course, his must have worn off too sometime tonight. When she downed the chemicals that would be keeping bet functioning for at least the next two weeks, she turned to him. She hadn't noticed yesterday how dirty his face was, but now that tears had cleaned two tracks on his cheeks she saw the contrast and her heart froze.

Ignoring her bodies screams at every movement, Dolores got up and straddled him, just like she had back then in the motel. She pushed a strand of his dark hair out of his face, careful not to touch his skin. Then she hovered her hand over his cheek in an obvious question. He closed his eyes, taking her hand in his and pressing it to his face. Dolores tore down the barriers and felt into his soul.

Guilt. It overrode her, coursing through his body like a hurricane ripping and tearing at his insides. Dolores did her best not to wince, to keep her eyes open and on him. He hated himself, hated that he had dragged her into this, that he had allowed himself to be so soft, so nice to her, that he had allowed her to come. He hated how selfish he had been, allowing her into his heart. He hated that he had allowed himself to like her and it tore his heart apart that him liking her had lead to this. It only confirmed what he already knew of himself, that he was dangerous, a loose cannon whether he wanted to or not, that even his love was lethal.

Quickly Dolores tore the barriers back up fearing she might just about cry again if she looked any further. She softly caressed his cheek until she managed to muster up enough courage to press a soft kiss onto his lips. Again he froze, but this time she didn't give him enough time to melt into her.

"Don't blame yourself," she whispered, her eyes locked onto his. "I came with you. You didn't force me to. Nobody did. And you didn't do any of this. You didn't order the Winter Soldier to kill me and you didn't throw the grenade. All you did was save my life, again and again and again. Without you, I'd be with Hydra now." Dolores saw the soft flutter of panic in his eyes. Only he knew the true meaning of those words. "I'd be with Hydra, or on the bottom of Stark Tower, or pretty much dead in between two dumpsters with three infections doing what the UN hadn't managed. You saved my life, James. And this," she continued, gesturing at her ears that were now useless. "I'll handle this. I've handled worse."

She stroked the creases out of his furrowed brow and kissed him again. It was a soft kiss, one that melted her bones and boiled her blood. Her heart raced away without her, her breath close behind, and she had to pull back out of fear for her ribs. When her eyes fluttered open again there was a small quiet smile playing around his lip and her heart jumped. "And now, we'll have to learn ASL. We can't run if you can't tell me where were going, and I think writing is a bit too slow." A shadow fled over his face, but it was gone before she could catch it. She moved so that she was sitting beside him again and got the last bag of fresh food she had out of the backpack. She handed him a cinnamon roll and tried to gather the courage to ask the question the surgeon inside her was burning to ask. "I'll need your help when you're finished. No, not now. Eat or I won't tell you." She glared at him until he continued eating, a little faster than before. "The burns on my arms are only second degree," she continued after he had finished. "They don't need the bandaging, they'd do better without. So I wanted to ask whether you could cut the sleeves of my shirt off." He nodded a little surprised, and Dolores noted with a mischievous grin that he hadn't quite understood what that would entail.

She moved her arms a bit and noticed happily that the painkillers had done their job. Then she took off her shirt, careful not to move any of the bandages. She handed the shirt to James which snapped him out of his staring and started to unwrap the bandages while he cut away the sleeves of the shirt with almost comical concentration.

James had to force himself not to look up. His fingers were slow and clumsy as he unwinded the thread on the shirt that still carried the warmth of her body, itching to abandon the effort to get closer to her, to feel her skin. It was the same as it had been back then in the tower when she had almost fallen off the roof. His mind was racing and empty at the same time, his hands twitching to touch her, feel the warmth of her body, his heart yearning with a desire he could barely comprehend. He was careful with the knife, knowing he couldn't trust his body to work properly right now. Even back then it had taken him every to concentrate and not slip up. Except that back then it had been easier. Back then the fear that she would push him away if he messed up had helped keep himself in check. Back then she hadn't kissed him. The thought brought back that feeling, her lips on his drowning out everything, her hands holding him, her body so close to his. He had had to force himself not to move, terrified that he'd make a mistake, that he might loose control. The grotesque bruise on his side showed how easily he could hurt her, and that had been when she was prepared to fight, had countered his hits. His look fell to the silver hand by his side holding the black fabric. He wanted nothing more than to have her close to him, to have her touch him the way she had just now. But the prospect of losing control, slipping up, making one mistake with that arm that had killed hundreds hand was too real to allow himself any such luxury.

Dot seemed to sense his darkening thoughts and put her hand on his cheek. Her touch was so soft and so wonderfully warm. Sometimes he felt as though the cold from the cryo chamber had never quite left him as if his bones were still frozen, the ice just lingering there to take him back any second. Sometimes the ice that froze his ribs would burst out, threatening to freeze his heart. At those times he would move, train, fight, run, anything that would keep him warm. But never had he feared the cold in his bones less than now, when her touch alone would melt him. He let his eyes flutter shut and only felt her warmth, for a second allowing himself the wish to feel more of it. He didn't care whether she used her powers on him now, didn't mind whether she read into him. Even without her hearing or having touched him she understood him strangely well, somehow had known how comforting her touch was, to know she was still there, with him. And for just that small moment, he allowed himself the relief that thought brought, the comfort of knowing he wasn't alone.

"James?" His eyes flew open and he met hers, full of worry and care. He found it strange that a human could care for him like that. Because he knew he sure as hell wasn't easy. Hydra had screwed with him pretty thoroughly, had messed with his mind, his heart and his body and after that, he didn't really trust either of the three. It seemed so unlikely that another human could understand him so well and like him after that when he could do neither of those things. He made himself smile to comfort her worries the way she always did, and the movement came much easier to him than he would have thought. She let her hand fall, and even though he wanted to take her hand and pull her closer, he turned his attention back to her shirt, forcing himself to forget that she was sitting there in only her bra.

He was careful with the knife and managed to separate the sleeves from the shirt without cutting the fabric once. He handed it back and earned another one of those small quick smiles. She struggled into the shirt and eventually he moved to help her tug it over her head and down her back, using the movement as an excuse to brush the skin of her back.

...

When the sun had crossed over then sky and the blue was dipped with black, James left the house to get some more food. He took the handgun with him Dolores hadn't known he carried and a few bills of the stack she handed back to him. It was slightly terrifying to be alone again, and she heard the deafening silence over the sound of her own heartbeat. She decided that she had come to terms with that, and had started thinking ahead. Figuring out the future was a good way to distract herself. From what she had thought up, she knew her best chances were to stick with James. She'd have done it if that was her worst chance, but it was nice to known she could convince him if needed. Though the UN had proven that it clearly had more interest in James than in her, Hydra and the Avengers would want her alive. It was best if they stuck together. And as horrible and devastating the damage to her ears had seemed at first, it was nothing that couldn't be fixed. The eardrums were actually the easiest to fix or replace and a skilled doctor could do that for her. Stark could do that for her. And he owed her. But right now, she was a criminal, on the run with a serial killer and terrorist. He wouldn't do shit for her. Meaning the best and probably only way to go was to clear James' and with that her own name.

By the time James got back with a bag of empanadas and two think books, Dolores had a plan formed in her mind. Her grumbling stomach however set different priorities and she watched James like a hawk as she devoured her empanadas, making sure he ate his share. Then, her attention turned to the books he had brought. He grinned as picked up the first one and she wasn't sure what had her more excited, his grin or then fact that he had managed to somehow acquire two ASL learning books. Completely forgetting about her plan, she threw her arms around him for a quick hug before she dived into the book.

Dolores learned the language much quicker than James and her new fully concentrated efforts helped her over the fact that her Russian lessons would be put on halt indefinitely. They learned the alphabet first so they would be able to spell out any words they couldn't remember, but after two weeks, Dolores was making the signs to quickly James often had to ask her to slow down. He too seemed relieved to have a method of communicating with her again. The first thing he asked was how she had found him and Dolores pointed at her phone, whose battery was now dead for sure.

"I forgot it in your backpack. My mistake." James nodded and didn't seemed at all to mind that she had put such an easily traceable device on him.

Her burns had healed nicely and the scar tissue was strong enough that she could wear the last long sleeved shirt she had left again. Not that she did all too often, she quite liked the way he brushed her skin a little too often for it to be accidental. She didn't mention it to him, not now when they were about to leave.

As soon as he could, James explained to her that he wanted to leave the city. He was uneasy with the phones last signal having lead right here and had looked around enough to be sure that there was no niche they'd fit into. Dolores didn't mind at all getting out of the abandoned building, but she's managed to convince James to wait at least the two weeks until her burns and his shot wounds hat mostly healed. Now that they had both removed their bandages and even the burn on her skull had healed enough to be strained, Dolores was packing their things while James was out "securing a method of transport", as he'd put it.

Dolores had had James go food shopping before they had climbed into their new pickup and was now happily emptying the second bag of cookies as they were driving into twilight. She had managed to talk James into letting her drive and was awake beside her under the pretense of giving directions, but she had the suspicion that he was mainly using it as an excuse to absentmindedly trace patterns on the back of her hand he was holding. Especially since the directions they had been following was mainly: get as far away as we can, then pick a city. He nodded off every now and then, but only ever for a few seconds.

"You can sleep, you know. We can stop if you're afraid I'll go in circles," she added jokingly. James shook his head and and stabilize himself on the handle at the window as his whole body started to sway. Dolores pulled over and leapt out of the car. She walked around to his side of the car, worry and anger boiling in her chest. She thought she hid them rather well as she tore open the door and dragged him out of the car to the back seats. "James, you need to sleep. I don't even know how long you've been up, but it's not healthy. Killing you actually." He struggled against her grip, but she somehow managed to wrestle him down. Only now did she really see how tired he was. Deep dark rings had carved themselve under his eyes and his pupils barely focused, missing her more often than looking at her. He really hadn't slept all this time. Fear took hold of her. Lack of sleep could be lethal and it was obvious that he hadn't slept when she thought he had. She knew that he hadn't trusted a deaf person on watch, but her peripheral vision had increased and bettered to almost supernatural levels and she had assumed that would assure him enough for him to sleep at least a little. Desperation seemed fueled his strength and he managed to fight her until he sat upright, swaying slightly.

I can't sleep, he tried to argue.

"I can keep driving. We'll keep moving and you can sleep here, in the back. I have a good sense of direction, I think I can handle driving straight ahead for a few hours." When she wanted to push him down again his hand clasped around her wrists and for the first time she was a little afraid of his left arm as her bones crunched under his grip.

No please. I don't want to sleep, I can't. Even with her barriers up she could sense that he too was afraid. Afraid of the dark and the horrors it might bring. Her eyes grew softer and she pulled him upwards by his grip on her wrists.

"You're afraid of your dreams," she stated and the flicker in his eyes told him she was right. "You have to sleep, James. Lack of sleep is lethal. And you'll be useless, tumbling around like a drunk bear." He shook his head, his movements seeming less and less controlled.

No, I can't, I don't want to see it again, please don't let me. Sensing his oncoming panic, Dolores took his face into her hands but his eyes didn't focus.

"James, you have to sleep. Calm down, okay, I'm here. How about, you sleep and I keep watch, I wake you if you have a nightmare." But her words didn't even seem to register with him. Not knowing what else to do, Dolores forced herself to calm down and ripped down the barriers, channeling all the calm she could muster into the touch on his skin. James drew a sharp breath as the wave of foreign emotion hit him and glossed over his own panic. Dolores pinched her eyes closed to concentrate while his muscles relaxed under her and she could push him down onto the seats again. "Sleep James. I'll watch out for you, okay?" He looked up at her, confusion and hurt in his eyes and Dolores felt her own betrayal sting in her chest. He had been forced and manipulated to do so much, and, just when he had started to trust her, she too turned against him and manipulated him with powers give to her by Hydra to do what she wanted him to do.

Self-hatred burned her guts and Dolores wanted to curl up and tear herself apart, but she sat down and took his right hand into hers, every now and the probing the barriers to monitor his sleep, feeling like the worst person in the world.

James awoke to the sound of stifled sobs. It was a slow, drowsy awakening as if sleep was not yet ready to let him go. But his body was ready and would not allow his mind to sink back into blissful nothingness once more. His eyes fluttered open and slowly sharpened on something gray above him. He wondered how long he had slept that his body was getting used to his consciousness so slowly. Again the soft sobbing noise caught his attention and he slowly turned to the sound. His view had sharpened and he realized that he was lying in the back of the car. He remembered Dot driving, but he had no idea how he had gotten here. However he didn't mind that particular problem much when he discovered Dot curled into a tight ball in the legroom, hiding her face in her knees, her whole body shivering under silent sobs. Worry rose in his slowly waking heart and he shifted, brushing her hair. It had the intended effect and she looked up, her eyes red and puffy from crying. He offered a smile and more tears flowed over he face. His smile fell and he hurried to sit up and pull her onto the seats next to him.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered, her voice shaken by sobs.

For what, his hands asked. He rubbed her back gently, hoping to calm her a bit, and it worked. When she spoke again, her voice was steady and streaked with guilt.

"I tricked you. You panicked, you were so afraid, so I calmed you so you would sleep. I used my powers so you would sleep, I'm so sorry. I stayed awake and did it again and again whenever you were afraid, just so you could sleep a little longer. I'm so fucking sorry." She wanted to keep talking, keep saying sorry, but James didn't let her. He had never kissed her before, had never made the move towards her in fear of scaring her away. But he knew how well her kisses worked to keep his mind off things and he wanted to help her like she helped him.

It worked. She didn't continue speaking and her tears ran dry. As much as he yearned to continue the kiss, follow what his instincts screamed at him, he pulled away and moved back so she could see him.

I have never slept so well in my life. If you did that, I have to thank you. Hydra, he flexed his fingers in the way they had agreed upon, never allowed me sleep. I sleep in cryo. I have had nightmares for as long as I remember. I... he hesitated at the horrified look on her face, but then he slowly, carefully continued. She would find out somehow anyway and she had helped him, she deserved to know. Back in Romania I used a gag so nobody would hear me scream myself awake. I can go two weeks without sleep, and I do because I fear what I see at night. So I thank you for my first restful sleep without nightmares.

Dot was crying again. She threw her arms around him and he pulled her close, happy he had told her if he got a reaction like that.

"Okay. You sleep while I drive and vice versa. I'll stay awake and watch out, and you sleep. Okay?" Bucky smiled and kissed her again. Again his heart fluttered, again her hands seemed to find their way to his body blindly. He gave in to her hands pleading and pulled her closer, having to concentrate hard to touch her only lightly, not to hurt her. His heart yearned her closer, the kiss deeper, faster. She was like fire with his soul dying to burn. She was the sky, the light, the air and water. She was his world and his home. He never again wanted to let her go, wanted to keep her this close forever. Her hands crept upwards trailing over his torso, tangling themselves into his hair.

Only when she winced did he notice how tightly he was holding her side. Immediately he drew back, fear rising in his heart. He cursed himself for letting himself slip like that. He knew the power he had, knew how badly he could hurt her. If she wouldn't allow him to draw Hydra away from her, he would do his best to protect her from whatever could harm her, and that included himself. And he was doing a terrible job right now. Dot noticed his withdrawal and sighed with a soft patient smile.

"You won't hurt me James. Not like that." Then she maneuvered herself out of the car and pulled him with her. "Your turn. You drive, I sleep."


	31. Chapter 31

Day 28, 9:05

Bucky concentrated on the texture of the leather of the steering wheel beneath his fingers. The street was going straight for miles and miles for as long as he could see, the car didn't require his full attention. So, to distract himself from Dot sleeping beside him, from her soft breathing, from the way her hand had fallen onto the seat, the way the sun kissed her hair in a fiery passion, to distract himself from that yearning in his chest, he played with the car. He already had full comprehension of the stereo, the ventilation system, all the lights and technicalities the car had. Now, he was trying to figure out whether the leather was real or that new plastic crap.

It was strange, at least for him. Steve had missed decades of history he now had to catch up on. For him it was different. The decades he had lost to Hydra were like slippery silk. He had no grasp on it, the days, years rushing between his fingers, only leaving a tingling sensation of its presence on his fingertips. He remembered a lot, just never specifics. He knew how to operate most modern guns, how to fix a radio, which comforts most modern cars offered. He could work with any phone given to him, and from somewhere had a thorough understanding of anything electrical. Maybe Hydra had shoved that knowledge into his head so he might fix his arm in case it broke down on a mission, maybe he had learned it on his own, back when he had been that person that would go to a science fair on his last day at home. Wherever it came from, Bucky was grateful that not all of his mind had been lost to Hydras wires. At least he could operate a microwave. He smiled when the image of Steve quietly cursing the little buttons and knobs, hoping no-one would hear him, came up in his minds eye.

"What's so funny?" Dot's soft voice startled him out of his thoughts and when he looked over to her, he found her smiling and looking up at him with sleepy eyes. God she was pretty. He forced his eyes back on the road.

 _Steve doesn't_ _know_ _how_ _to use_ _a microwave._ Dot chuckled and also turned her attention to the road.

"Yeah, he has a lot to catch up on." She paused for a second, then she turned to him and he once more forced himself to look straight ahead, as not to send them rumbling into the desert. "How's that with you? Do you remember stuff from when..." Her words trailed into silence, unable to express something she couldn't understand.

 _When_ _I was with_ _Hydra?_ he completed her sentence. _I remember_ _a lot. I'm not_ _as_ _lost as_ _he is. At_ _least not_ _when_ _it_ _comes_ _to the technology._ Somehow Dot could sense the deeper pain behind those words even without hearing it in his voice. Somehow, even when he had no problem with the advancements of the world he now found himself in, she understood that he still felt lost. It was a kind of lost that couldn't be fixed by learning buttons or watching the latest movies. No, Bucky was lost in a much deeper sense. Lost in his own body and his own mind. Was it still his, or was it Hydra's? Where the marks they had left a sygil of ownership or just scars he could count as his own? She tugged at his hand and laced her fingers with his, bringing comfort with her touch.

He looked over to her again. She was incredibly cute when sleep still had her curled up like that. Her body was a tight small ball on the passenger seat and her red hair was like a storm around her head. Something sweet tugged at his heart and somehow the touch of her hand was no longer enough. He wanted to feel her body curled up next to him, like it had been last night. She had stayed with him on the backseat of the car, curled up at his side while the night of staying awake for him had taken its toll on her. "Just five minutes, then we can keep going," she had murmured all sleepy and raw and soft. Then she had fallen asleep, legs tucked tightly up against his chest, her arms wrapped around him. It had taken hours for him to convince himself that they had to keep moving. His heart had beat in his chest like an excited bird and his hand had trembled whenever he had tried to let go of her shoulder.

With a smile he had eventually given up and had allowed himself those few hours of content peace. He had allowed himself to let his head drop onto hers, had allowed himself to be wrapped up by her warmth and smell. He hadn't slept, hadn't want to miss a single second with her so near, not that he could have, with his heart racing like that.

Eventually, guilt had driven him out of her embrace. He had to keep moving. That ugly bandage clinging to her head, her scarred arms, her bruised side, all that was his fault. All that had happened because _he_ hadn't moved fast enough. So many people were after them, they couldn't afford him wasting time like this. So, over an hour of begging and pleading with himself, he managed to draw out of her embrace. He carried her over to the passengers seat, where it was a whole new struggle to get her sleeping form to give up its hold on him. But eventually, he managed. But now, he missed her embrace, even if it had been unconscious. He debated pulling over and drawing her as close to him as he needed her to be right now, but he pushed that thought aside with the same reasoning he had used to get himself to keep driving last night. He concentrated on understanding the voice of the news reporter on the radio that Dot had just turned on to avoid her catching the nature of his thoughts on his face. The Winter Soldier might have a mask of ice, but somehow, it melted for her.

"...Mahr, Barnes' psychologist and presumed accomplice in the murders are on the run. Their last known whereabouts are Stark Tower and the park where Dr. Mahr's sister is buried, both in New York. Their Images can be seen on every news station, so please tune in and see whether you have seen anyone that looks like those two photos. He is..." Bucky turned the radio off, anger steaming in his chest. What a bunch of bullshit. How could they even think to suspect Dot?! Him sure, he had over a hundred confirmed kills, but her? How could nobody see what Hydra was doing?

Dot looked over at him in slight confusion having no idea what the news reporter had said. He slowed down the car a bit so he would have no trouble fixing the steering wheel with his knee while he "spoke".

 _Their_ _saying_ _I killed_ _the men_ _in the graveyard_ _and_ _that you're my accomplice. They're parading our im_ _ages_ _all over TV and giving_ _descriptions_ _out over the radios._ Dot nodded, worry softly creasing her forehead. Then she grinned.

"Looks like we're a national crisis." Bucky had to laugh at the wicked tone in her voice and a new sense of awe for the woman next to him arose. She wasn't afraid that they were hunting them. She wasn't afraid that they'd be caught and killed. Seeing the look on his face Dot laughed. "What? We're a two man army, just us against the world. If they think they can take us on, let the try!"

 _You're_ _confident_.

"And wrongly so? You forget that I can kill people with my thoughts." The joy seeped from her voice and her smile faded like the stars in the light of the rising sun.

 _Are_ _you_ _okay?_ She shook her head.

"Those people died because I wanted them to die. That's how it works. They hurt you, they thought they had the right to hurt you after all they've done to you. And that just made me so furious. I wanted them to feel the same pain that they thought they could make you feel. And they did. They all screamed like that because I _wanted_ them to. They _died_ because I wanted them to." Her voice was nothing but a raw whisper, all the sound stolen by the horror at what she had done. Tears fell from her eyes and Bucky tightened his grip on her hand, the sight of her crying cutting so deep into his heart he thought she might see the blood. "I _wanted_ someone to _die_ ," she gasped, suppressed sobs choking her.

It tore him apart knowing she was going through this because of him, because he hadn't been able to move fast enough, be strong enough.

 _They_ _were_ _Hydra. They_ _would_ _have_ _killed_ _you. You_ _had_ _no_ _other_ _choice, they_ _didn't_ _give_ _you_ _one_ , he tried to comfort her. Bucky had never been too good with comforting others. He could never think of the right things to say. It's going to be okay or it's not that bad always felt like lies to him. No sugarcoating could lessen the guilt of having killed for the first time. _For the first time_. The thought felt like a fist to his gut. With him, Dot would have to kill again. These were only the first of many more murders to come and he didn't allow himself to indulge in the illusion that he would be able to protect her from all of them.

"That doesn't matter. I took what should never be touched. What if they had family? A wife or a kid waiting at home for them?" The thought struck him as strange. He had never thought of Hydra soldiers as husbands or fathers. He never thought about how they would go home at weekends. Those that could. Somehow, he had always assumed that Hydra took over their whole life. Dot seemed to sense his thoughts.

"Just because their beliefs are wrong in my eyes doesn't allow me to hurt them. And just because they think they have that right doesn't give it to me." Bucky nodded.

 _No, it_ _doesn't. And it_ _is incredible_ _that you_ _can_ _think_ _like_ _that with what they have done, what they signed_ _up for. But_ _in the end_ _either_ _they_ _would_ _have_ _killed_ _us_ _or_ _taken_ _us_ _back to Hydra._ Bucky looked up, at her dark green eyes, at her quivering lips and wished he could say those next words so she slight hear how true they were. _And I'd rather_ _have_ _them_ _dead_ _than_ _you_ _with them._


	32. Chapter 32

Day 28, 17:57

Dolores was running her hands through James' backpack in hopes of finding some forgotten can of food. She had already scavenged her own backpack, unsuccessfully, and was now climbing around the car to distract herself from her boredom and all the other things she was feeling. They had been driving all day and with James needing to keep his hands on the wheel, conversation wasn't an option. They had both sunk into their thoughts and while James' expression had darkened at some point, he now looked at the road, focus and concentration written all over his face. Dolores guessed he was planning their next step, maybe even how to get them out of this mess.

She however had been prone to much less targeted thoughts, her mind wandering around, but always finding it's way back to either the man beside her or the silence suffocating her. So now, to distract herself and elongate the period of time for which they would not have to stop, she was climbing around the car to find food. Huddled up in the back seat with James' backpack in her hands, her fingers hit an unfamiliar piece of paper. She carefully pulled it out and found that it was an envelope addressed to her. She climbed back to the front and held it so that it would appear in James' peripheral vision. He looked over and smiled.

Go ahead. Read it.

Curiosity taking over, Dolores carefully pried open the envelope and unfolded the stack of papers she found inside. Her eyes scanned the first line of his handwriting and it took her several seconds to see why she couldn't read it. It was Russian. She looked over at James and found him grinning.

 _It's meant for when you can read it._

Dolores nodded, folded the paper back up and slipped it into Nessy's case, which was still in her pocket.

Darkness was settling over the car and Dolores was looking for the first stars. At least that hadn't changed. The stars were still the same. Nothing she was missing out on there. She had slept for some time today and even with night stepping closer to them, she didn't feel tired. James had slept sometime two days ago and was showing no signs of sleep deprivation, but she knew better than to pay attention to that. She tapped his shoulder and then the steering wheel. When she remembered that he still had his hearing, she underlined the gesture by saying: "Let me drive. You need to explain a few things to me." It was becoming a strange habit to communicate silently, just because she couldn't hear, but only feel her own voice. He shot her a puzzled look but then pulled over, even though they had been the only car on the road for two days now. They changed seats and Dolores set the car back on the road.

"Where are we going. And how are we going to get rid of Hydra?" James looked ahead and Dolores made sure to keep the car slow so she could look at his talking hands without danger. He pulled out a notebook and flipped to some page in the middle, skipping whatever he had written in it before and looked at the notes there.

 _To get you out of this, we need to get rid of Hydra. You are only wanted because you killed Hydra agents and helped me. One can be undone by ridding the world of Hydra, the other by getting rid of me._

At that she stared at him in shock but he shook his head quickly at seeing her panic.

 _No. No. Sorry. The UN only wants me dead because I am a liability. And that is only because of Hydra. If they are gone, I am just a normal criminal. So we need to get rid of Hydra-Me._

Now Dolores understood what he had meant to say and nodded.

 _So, step one: Find a safe place from which to operate. Two: somehow take down hydra..._

Even with his hands Dolores could almost hear the skepticism. Yes... as two people, one severely impaired, take down a global organization that had survived two world wars, and alien invasion and two complete collapses...

 _Then, when Hydra is gone, you will be innocent and I might be allowed to stay in Stark Tower or a normal hospital or prison. They wont need to kill me anymore._

His hands paused and he let his head fall into his hands. With a sudden pang of worry, Dolores reached out and let her hand stroke over his curved back. At her touch he looked up, a sad smile failing to reach his eyes.

 _Dot... you might never be able to back again. If you stay with me. I might never manage, I'll probably be on the run, like this, my whole life._

He paused and his hands trembled slightly as he continued.

 _It would be better for you if you went back. You could get out of this, help Steve and the others. You could be free of this._

Dolores stopped the car and climbed over the middle console onto him. Her ribs hissed in protest, but she didn't care. The deep sadness, regret and fear in his face, his hands, his words, they numbed her to any other pain. She took his face into her hands and fell into those deep blue eyes that looked up at her, lost in a roaring ocean of uncertainty, trying to find footing on ever moving sand.

"Free of you, you mean," she murmured. She brushed a strand of his dark hair out of his face behind his ear, relishing the feeling of his skin under her fingertips. She had stopped wearing her gloves about two days ago, when she had realized that the barrier that kept her abilities from his soul was now coming to her as natural as breathing.

"James, I love you. You are my world. I want to be nowhere without you. And I don't care if I'll be living in Stark's luxury tower or a van, as long as I get to be with you. Living in peace and having a job is a luxury. But you are the air I breathe. I cannot breathe without you, James." His lips had drawn her closer and close and she whispered his name against them, him feeling the word more than he could hear it. She kissed him slowly, still, like eternity would kiss. When she pulled away, letting him see the resolve in her eyes, he pulled her back to him, holding her against him firmly. Not that he'd have to do that. Her body was craving his body, his skin, his heat. Her skin blazed bright with every touch, her heart glowing with heat and gold and warmth and life. She felt his breath under her fingertips, his every move to get her closer to him, her desire pulling her in like a ribbon of unbreakable light.

It was pain that stopped them from going any further. Well, it stopped him. Her ribs were protesting the rough treatment, her burnt arms chiming in, screaming. James felt her flinch as his hands followed the coutures of her side and froze. Her gaze urged him on, begged him to keep going, but he just softly pushed her a little away from him.

 _You need to heal._

He shifted and he too was punished by a stab from the shot on his arm.

 _And so do I_ , he smiled. Dolores pouted, her body still burning from his touch, and he laughed. God, she wished she could hear his laugh. He pulled her close again, but not to kiss her, but to wrap her in his arms and pull her as close as their wounds would allow. As the bliss of his closeness settled in, a smile played on her lips.

She'd go nowhere without him. It might mean more pain, more danger and hardship to be on the run with him, but she didn't care. Her life had been a normal little adventure, until Nessy died. After that it had been a gray, monotone drag of hours, each second ticking by, moving her senseless body closer to its expiration date. He had stopped that. With James, colour had come back into her life. Her heart was beating again, she was moving, alive. And so much more. She wouldn't leave him, not if hell froze over and Asgard fell, and especially not if Hydra and the whole world was after them.


	33. Chapter 33

Day 28, 19:00

Steve dropped his shield onto the couch, not even bothering to prop it up somewhere. He'd take care of it tomorrow. The UN mission had been grueling, the smoothly running gears of the team the only thing that had ensured their survival. He was as exhausted as he hadn't been in weeks and the silence of his floor wasn't helping the cause. He looked back over at the couch and could almost see Bucky sitting there, tense, keeping a watchful eye on every movement, only ever so slightly relaxing when the doctor exited the elevator.

But he wasn't here. God only knew where he was right now. Steve sincerely hoped the doctor was with him. The other option was too horrible to think about. He let his body finally collapse onto the couch and asked Friday to replay the tape of the security footage of the last day Bucky had been in the building. Dot was in the lobby, a backpack with her. Bucky seemed to remember something and went back into the elevator. He stopped at their floor. Went into his room and put something in his backpack. Then he froze as Jarvis spoke the first Russian word. Crashed against the door, against the glass, the walls, all to no avail. Froze solid, standing at attention after the tenth word. _Ready to comply_. Received the instructions to kill the doctor when they were alone. Nodded. Left. Got in the car with the doctor.

Stark had managed to follow their car to the Greenwood Cemetery, but there had been no evidence of them ever being there. Several dead hydra agents had been lying in the bushes around a small chapel, all killed by what seemed like the doctor, but otherwise there had been no clues where they might have gone. But that was to be expected. Finding Bucky had taken an attack on the UN and the assassination of a king the last time, it wouldn't be easy.

Steve groaned and rubbed his face, mentally urging himself to get up an continue. He hoped he could get to Bucky before Hydra, the UN or the rest of the team. Maybe he could help him, they could surely figure out something together. But he had had no luck so far. Groaning, he got up and made his way one floor lower. He greeted Wanda and Nat, promising to help with dinner in a second, and once again went into the doctors room. He hadn't found any clues here so far, but if he just looked closer, just once more, he might finally make the connection.

He took in the tidy room and eventually found himself once more sitting on the bed, looking at the wall with her paintings. They were splashes of color, each telling the story of a character. A dancer here, an angel there.

For the first time, one specific painting drew his attention. It was a very beautifully crafted picture of a landscape, mountains rising behind a dense forest of trees. He had skimmed the picture a hundred times, but now that he looked at he he spotted something new. Steve got up and took the picture from the wall, taking a closer look. And yes, really, in between the trees there was a small dark figure of a man with shoulder long dark hair. He would have thought it to be just some random figure, had not the left arm been painted in bright clear silver. Steve smiled. Bucky, alone, free, no walls or ceiling holding him.

When he went back into the kitchen, Steve found his worry a little soothed. Wherever Bucky was right now, he would be okay. The doctor would make sure of that. The serum had made her powerful and she would fight with tooth and nail to ensure what her painting had promised. He would find him, eventually, but until then, Bucky would be okay.


	34. Chapter 34

Day 30, 1:06

James slept while they approached the border of Guatemala. They had changed case again in Mexico City, but they'd have to cross the border on foot, with never legally having entered Mexico and all. Dolores was reluctant to wake him, feeling a rare moment of peace beneath her fingertips, but she didn't have to. James awoke when the car stopped, the sudden change in momentum jolting him awake. He tensed for a second until he remembered where he was and who was touching him. Dolores let go as soon as his eyes had opened, feeling the unease that her proximity cause. She knew it wasn't how he really felt, he liked her being close, liked her touch, she felt it whenever her barriers started to waver, bit she also felt the instinctual unease that over half a decade of torture had carved deeper into his soul than any pleasant new memories could erase.

"The border is a kilometre from here. I thought it would be better to leave the car here." She gestured at the half-filled parking lot around them. James nodded, his eyes flying to the wired beneath the steering wheel which she already had stuffed back under the covering. "All done. We can get going. I already packed the bags." She leaned back and dragged the backpacks to the front. James smiled and got out, shouldering his bag. Pride welled up in her chest at his recognition and she followed him. Back in Monterrey when they had sat in the abandoned flat learning ASL, Dolores had decided that she wasn't going to be useless. She wasn't going to let James do everything and then just tag along. She was going to help as best as she could, even if she had sworn herself to never use her powers against any enemies. She had her knives and her few fighting skills. As long as she thought every move through and went into every fight prepared, she wouldn't have to use them. She wasn't going to hurt people again.

In according fashion, she had already hidden the cables while driving one of the endless straight highways and had packed the bags. She closed the car door behind her quietly and quickened her pace to catch up with James.

 _Put on your hood,_ he instructed and pointed at the bandage that still graced her head. Dolores understood. The white would stick out like a candle in the darkness. She hid under her hood and made sure that most of her light skin was also covered, pulling her gloves back on.

Bucky concentrated on the task ahead, pushing the vague memories of his dreams away. It was strange to dream, now that Dot was watching over him when he slept. He still saw the picture that had terrified and torn him apart before, but now they seemed like the memories of a stranger, as if the deeds of the Winter Soldier had been committed by someone else, not him. He watched them in terrified calm, as if he was watching a film, Dots hand always on his shoulder, keeping him from the fear and the hate.

He also dreamed about his time before and during the was more often. He often saw Steve in his dreams, and two other people who he guessed were his parents figuring by the warm longing he felt whenever he saw their vague but ever sharpening faces.

Scanning every street, every area ahead, he lead Dot out of the cover of the houses and towards the border. Here, next to whatever city this was, the fence was well fortified, but after having walked the length of the fence in a few hundred meters distance for ten or so kilometres, he found a weak spot.

Dot sank to the floor with an exhausted groan when he started pulling and tugging at the fence and the ground beneath it until there was just enough space for one person to crawl through. They pushed the bags through first, then he shooed Dot across.

 _Quick, hide with the bags,_ he urged her and she nodded. It something that confused him every time again. Dot trusted him, blindly. She was smart and he was sure he would still be stuck somewhere up in Monterrey without her, and yet she was still here, trusting him. She grabbed the bags and ran for a cluster of trees and scrawny bushed in a few hundred meters distance. Bucky quickly followed behind, making sure he left the fence as he had found it before running after her.

When he reached the cluster of trees he spun around, missing her the first time his eyes frantically scanned the foliage.

"James! Here!" He whirled towards her whisper and crouched down into the foliage next to her.

 _We'll wait for an hour. Then we can go._ Dot nodded and leaned against a nearby tree, stretching out her injured leg into a bush. He still admired how she had been able to perform such a surgery on herself, how she had been able to skin her own leg and the just walk on.

And he hated himself for forcing her to go through that on her own. He could have been there, could have helped her. But he had needed to try to get away, to lure Hydra and the UN away from her. Hydra wanted him, he was the security risk. Dot was just another experiment that could be recreated anytime. They probably already had done so. But he knew too much, he had to be killed. And to the UN, Dot was just an accomplice. He was the real threat. Drawing them away had been a good plan in his eyes. He had simply underestimated Dot. Her desire to stay with him, her ability to find him, pretty much everything. Especially her punch. He smiled at the memory of the pain shooting through his jaw.

"James?" Her voice drew him out of his thoughts and he found her looking at him with those beautiful green eyes shining like emeralds from her dirty face. "Can I come with you when you get food next time? There are some things I need, it's easier if I just come with you." A million scenarios of how this could go wrong shot through his head, but eventually he nodded. It would be good if Dot came with him. He could teach her what to watch out for if she ever had to do this on her own and they would have two backpacks and four arms instead of just him carrying what he could.

 _We still have enough for a week if we ration it. I'm hoping we have a place to stay by then._ At those words, a smile lit up Dot's face and for a second, Bucky forgot to worry about the dark and the cold. _He_ was used to being on the run, even from the scraps he could remember, Hydra would sometimes have him out for weeklong missions, and the two years in Bulgaria had done their part, but he often forgot that Dot wasn't used to this. That she needed rest, food, a warm place to stay. That this couldn't be a long-term way of life for her.

And for him neither. This was the way Hydra wanted him to live until he was exhausted and made a mistake so they could catch up to him. He was sick of it. The days in the tower had shown him how good it was to have a place that wasn't temporary, that, no matter what, would be waiting there for him at the end of the day. How much more human he felt with a constant in his life. For now, Dot was his constant, something he hoped wouldn't change, but he wanted more.

 _Sleep a little. We have a long way to go._ Dot nodded and abandoned clutching to her backpack to curl up at his side, her head resting on his chest. Bucky couldn't help the grin on his face, and he didn't really mind with nobody around to see it. At least, with his heart racing like that, he wouldn't have any trouble staying awake.

James softly shook her awake and Dolores forced herself awake. It was still dark, but her aching side that had leant against the tree agreed with the idea of finding a somewhat softer bed. Still half blind she felt for her bag and scrambled to a stand. James smiled and took her hand and Dolores thankfully closed her hand around the cool metal. She didn't quite trust her legs to walk straight just yet.

Dolores concentrated on James' hand while they walked. She didn't need to know where they were going, it made no difference to her anyway. She focused her mind on the metal warming beneath her fingers, on the soft twitching of the fingers every now and then, and on the shifting of the metal plates to accommodate James' rotating torso whenever he lead them past a tree. It distracted her from her feet starting to hurt and from the backpack growing heavier and heavier with every step. At some point, her mind grew numb and she thought nothing while they just walked, her brain blending out the distance they had already brought behind them.

Her mind completely enthralled by its own numbness, she only noticed how bright the sky had gotten when a soft pressure by James' hand told her he had stopped moving just seconds before she almost ran into him. A little confused she looked up. They were still in a forest of some kind, but ahead light broke through the dense treeline. Dolores tried to force her tired eyes to see what was ahead, but James stepped into her line of vision.

 _There's a gas station up ahead. I'll go and get some food. We'll wait for a transporter to pass by and ride on the back._ Dolores nodded. It would be too risky to steal another car. It would leave a pattern of cars left by the border and other cars stolen across it. She moved forward to pluck a small leaf out of his hair and adjusted the jacket he was wearing so it wouldn't look like they had hiked through the jungle for the whole night, then she retreated into the shadow of a bush, offering a reassuring smile so he would stop worrying and go.

 _You okay?_

"I'm fine. Just be back quickly," she murmured, relying on his enhanced hearing to pick her voice over the sounds of the forest she was sure were there. He nodded and left, moving quickly yet leisurely towards the gas station. Dolores leaned back and kept her eyes gliding over the forest around her. It was strange sitting here in the beating heart of nature and being surrounded by absolute silence. The more she tried to listen, the more she felt like she had heard a sound, but she knew that it was just her brain trying to trick itself in its despair.

So far, they had managed to move without her lack of hearing being a problem, aside from the time it now took to talk, but Dolores was sure the time would come. James planned to settle down somewhere, at least for some time until they had a better plan, and then they'd have to work somehow. For her, working as a psychologist was completely out of question, and applying as a surgeon would be hard with no official proof that they were in the country. She'd have to work off the record somewhere, applying her surgical skills somewhere that wasn't a hospital. Because she would work, she would help. She was not going to let James carry them alone. She accepted that while on the run, there wasn't much she could provide to the planning part, years with both with and against Hydra had rendered him far superior in that field, but she helped where she could, forcing him to let her have at least the half of the driving share and letting her deal with most short interactions, such as motel counters or paying for gas. James fought her for it every time, but she was getting good at convincing him.

She missed James leaving the gas station during one of the scans of the forest around her and when she looked at the gas station again he was almost with her again. An automatic smile danced on her lips and infected him, tugging at his face while he handed her a grocery bag with two chocolate bars inside, proceeding to empty out the pockets of his pants, filling the stolen goods to the few bought ones. Dolores still felt a pang of guilt whenever she ate something they had stolen, but James had long convinced her that there was no way they could buy all that food _and_ pay for gas.

Dolores smiled when she noticed that over half of the chocolate bars were the ones she had gotten that second day in the Vault. It seemed like forever ago that she had gotten those.

 _No nuts and no caramel. Just chocolate,_ he grinned. Dolores grinned and tore one open, trying to satisfy the gaping hole in her stomach. They had last eaten before they had left for Guatemala yesterday morning, and she had convinced James that she had eaten while he had slept so that he would eat more. It had been hard getting him to eat at all, since he didn't feel his hunger while hers was painfully obvious.

The chocolate melted in her mouth and Dolores couldn't help but let out a little squeal of happiness. It seemed like eternity since she had tasted chocolate. James tried to suppress a smile and hid it in the remains of the chocolate bar that she offered him.

 _There is a delivery truck coming tomorrow at dawn,_ he said after the chocolate had left his hands. Dolores nodded.

"Okay. We sleep down here or in the trees?" James looked around, judging the density of the foliage, measuring how easily they would be seen.

 _Let's stay down here for tonight. We're in the middle of nowhere, this should be fine._

They walked into the forest for a few minutes, just for good measure, then Dolores tried to make the ground somewhat more hospitable with a pile of leaves and her jacket, pulling James to her so that his jacket would cover them both.

She curled up against his chest, making sure her skin was separated from his by his shirt. She concentrated on the soft rising and falling of his chest, the beating of his heart beneath her fingers and the warmth radiating from his body. But despite her body begging for sleep, her mind wouldn't settle. A million thoughts raced through her skull. She worried about Wanda and Steve, what was happening to them right now. Whether they had been hurt in a UN missions. She wondered how Banners research in Bucky's poison was going, whether he had abandoned it after they had left. She wondered if Natasha felt betrayed. Whether they all hated her for leaving. Whether Steve was questioning his trust in James.

Soft vibrations in James chest and his irregular breathing tore her out of her thoughts. She knew the pattern well, it was all that was left for her of speech. She wondered what James was saying. She concentrated on his breathing and the vibrations. It wasn't rhythmic, so no song or recital. He was saying something, to her, something he didn't want her to know. Slowly she let her fingers slip closer to the edge of his shirt, where answers waited. The tips of her fingers quivered, he must have felt it, must have felt that she was awake. But he did not stop her, simply continued talking. Did she eve have a right to do this? If he wanted her to know, he would have told her. What gave her permission to her the things he said when she was asleep?

But he did not stop her. Her fingers felt like they had touched lightning when they fell onto the soft skin of his neck and immediately part of her mind held up a barrier to his feelings. She traced the scar that was left of the Hydra soldiers knife, hoping to show him that she would not look if he didn't want her to see, gave him the chance to pull her away. And for a second, he froze. The vibrations slowed and for a heartbeat, stopped. But then he kept talking and his hand took hers and gently pressed it to his skin.

Dolores carefully took down the barriers. And was washed away. A roaring river of emotion swept her away and it took her a few breaths to steady herself. There was fear and anxiety and pain. Some of it from now, some of it from before, when he had been in the gas station. He had been terrified to leave her alone, to let her out of his reach. He hated that he had to leave her so vulnerable, to leave everyone to see the wounds he had caused. He was terrified to lose her and he hated that he wanted her, wanted her to be so close to him where she was in danger. But he loved her, loved her so much alone the thought of her getting hurt caused him to flinch in pain. He wanted to be with her, but he couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt. And it tore him up that all those scars, every single one of them was his fault. Had it not been for him, she would never have felt pain like that, would never have had to kill or hurt anyone. Had it not been for him, she would never have been hurt.

And that conflict tore him apart. He wanted her, wanted her to be here, with him, to touch him, to know what was going on in his head, wanted to share her soul with him. But everything inside him was screaming to get away. To protect her from more wounds said the part that loved her, to protect him said the part that had never let go of its fear of Hydra, to save her from this mess that was him said the part that was sitting of the pile of shards that was his soul.

Dot let go, withdrawing her hand back so that his shirt was between them. He had stopped telling her when she had touched him and had concentrated on showing her why his heart was tearing itself apart. Now he waited for her to roll away from him. To keep her distance until the morning to that she could get away safely. Now that she had realized her mistake. To stay with him.

But she didn't. She curled up further until her body was so far entangled with his that they seemed like one. Her voice was so soft, so small he barely heard her over the roaring of his mind and the nightly forest.

"James, you never hurt me. You protected me. You saved my life. And…" Her voice trailed off and James looked down to see her staring into the night. She sat up and he pushed himself up against the tree as well. She played with the hem of her sleeve before looking back up at him. "And you're not the cause of one of my scars." She pulled off her shirt and Bucky felt his heart freeze and then race away. She hugged herself, both against the cold and pointing at her arms where the fire had kissed her skin. "These are from the UN throwing an explosive at us in a civilian small area." One hand fell onto her leg, where he knew a white bandage hid a rectangular wound. "This one is because the UN burned off the skin from half my skull." She pointed at her left shoulder where a scar was just barely touched by the mark of the fire. "This one is from Hydra." The barely visible line on her jaw. "So is this one." She lifted her hair and turned slightly so he could see a minute line on the base of her neck. "This one is from Banner removing my chip." She pointed to her side where only a barely visible shade of grey reminded of the grotesque colours that had blossomed there. "This one is from Hydra, using the Winter Soldier."

Bucky winced at that, but her eyes remained cold and resolute. "It wasn't you. You are the reason it was only a bruise and two broken ribs. If not for you, I would now be lying in Greenwood cemetery, two ribs puncturing my lungs, drowned in my own lungs. Or in some Hydra dungeon. Or dead in the Vault. Dead in the forest. On the sidewalk beside Stark Tower. In an alley in Monterrey. Somewhere lost in Mexico City. Starved in some desert in Mexico." Her green eyes bored into his and when he nodded, the tiniest of movements, it felt like a celestial force had turned from him when she looked down onto her right shoulder, close to the base of her neck.

"This one was How." She put her hand on her chest. "This one was Nessy." And pointed at her head. "These ones were my dad." She halted for a second, her momentum swinging before she looked down on her left wrist where a slim silver line ran across her wrist. "And that one, that was me." She looked up, his eyes locking on him, a resolution in her eyes that made him crumble to dust. "James, you have never hurt me." At that, her voice grew softer, the steel edge melting away, leaving only raw vulnerable honesty. "Everyone has, but not you. You are the best thing that has happened to me in longer than I can remember. I want to be with you, wherever that is. I will follow you through hell. And if you want me, I'm here."

Like a magnet, he was drawn to her. His hand found its own way to her cheek, his mind frozen in awe when she crawled to him, awestruck at her lips finding their place on his. And at her touch, a flood drowned him, a flood of love and certainty and courage. And in that second, he knew that they could do this. Together, they were invincible and if heaven came crashing down, they would rise from the ruins, together and alive.

"Don't be afraid, James."

And that night, he wasn't.


End file.
